


Phoenix Hawk

by featheredschist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Drama, F/M, Past Abuse, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:24:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featheredschist/pseuds/featheredschist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's left England after the war and the defeat of Voldemort. Why? What's he doing with his life now? A/U (canon through book 7 til epilogue, which is ignored) Harmony, Romance Warnings for angst, drama, violence, language, descriptions of past abuse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Here's the prologue to my new Harry Potter fiction. It's definitely A/U, and disregards that epilogue at the end of book 7. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I make no claims to this universe created by JK Rowling, and published in various formats not limited to Scholastic Books. Please do not sue me for an overactive imagination. Thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bits of editing. Right now, just formatting so it reads a little less like wall o'text!

Harry returned from his overseas mission exhausted. The extraction was easy, comparatively, but required a high level of energy he hadn't had to give in a few years. Not since, Then.   
He tried not to about it. The period just after the war. So many things went wrong during those two years.

 

Reluctantly, he entered the Pisces' Net where his friend and co-worker Rojer waited on him. He'd have rather gone straight home. But Belfry Securities' rules were distinct. Check in with your handler when you got home, before getting home. This added security to their lives, and gave a sense of normalcy to their covers, as each handler worked some kind of service job where being seen waiting on yet another customer was not out of the ordinary. A few even posed as delivery drivers to manage equipment movement and other, non-time sensitive gear.

 

Once inside, the usual “Cheers” effect sprang up, and calls of his name washed over him, helping him relax. Rojer saw him and grinned, the even, white teeth striking within the surrounds of dusky skin tone.

“Welcome home, Harry, how'd this trip go?”, Rojer asked, putting a shot of whiskey and a pint of dark beer on the bar at Harry's favorite place.

One quick sweep with his mage senses, and Harry settled on the stool. He knocked back the whiskey in short order, before answering, “Touch rough, but all right. The Bell will have more later, I'm sure.” With this brief news, Rojer's smile grew larger. Good news in personnel extractions was ALWAYS desired.

“Do ya need anything?”, Rojer next asked.

Harry shook his head, “Nah, I'll finish my dinner here and go home. My bed's calling.”

Rojer laughed and left him to it. Harry watched some of the other patrons, who all seemed to have an instinct to leave him alone tonight. Something gained from nearly three years of constant proximity and warnings from both Harry and Rojer.

 

Harry sipped at his beer, relaxing from his recent travels when one of the waitresses came over to him.

“Bell note, Harry, seemed too important to wait,” she said, slipping him a scrap of paper. Rojer saw the waitress, then watched Harry. 

Harry picked up the scrap and read: “W. D. J. Off 30. Have fun, BATS.” A quick smile at Rojer let him know that everything was fine. He crumpled the scrap and put it in his jacket's pocket for later disposal. The note basically congratulated him on the job, and gave him the usual downtime before reassignment. Harry knew it was time to focus on his other life for a brief period.

 

After another hour, Harry had finished his beer and paid his tab. He was contemplating the short walk home, an apparate, or flight. 

Rojer caught him in a huge, jaw cracking yawn, and suggested, “Ye'd better walk man. Yer too tired for the others.” Harry laughed and agreed. He left the bar under his own power. His own two feet, that is. Along the way back, he had time to think about what he needed to do for the most advantageous use of his next 30 days.

 

End Prologue


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Author makes no claims on anything owned by the wondrous JKR. Please do not sue for having an overactive imagination! Thank you!

Harry reached his apartment building and instead of taking the usual route to the penthouse suite, he moved along the side of the building to an alley and to the apparition point. From there, it was one quick spell to his apartment.

"Master Harrys!", called a high pitched, squeaky voice, "Yous home safe!" And he was stopped in his tracks by a small body colliding with his left leg.

Harry laughed, "Hello Dibby! Yes I'm home, and glad of it. Where's your mother?"

The small being turned up its' face, to gaze adoringly on the legendary Harry Potter, "Mumsy is in the kitchen, sirs!"

"Then we should get there, Dibby!" And Harry moved off, the house elf squealing in joy for the impromptu ride.

"Winky!", he called, "I hope you aren't bothering with a meal for me, I'm too tired." He honestly was, but wanted to check on her, and make sure everything was okay. Winky eased his life greatly, but he did his damnedest to not take advantage of her or any elf he bonded or employed.

"Master Harry, it is good you are homes. Dibby misseded you muchly," came the reply from the female elf standing on a stool in the kitchen before the stove. She stirred a large stew pot before turning to wave a hand at the cutting board. There some carrots sat waiting to be chopped. A knife rose from the butcher table and proceeded to roughly chop the carrots up and then lay back down. The carrot pieces left the cutting board as if thrown to the pot and dropped inside with soft plops.

"This food is for lunches tomorrow, as Winky is knowing very well you never eat right when you get back. Much as that makes Winky sad," she tried again to guilt trip him. It never worked, having stopped after he complained of not being able to sleep well on a full belly with mission exhaustion. It was now a game to them.

"Winky, if I ate your cooking all the time, Belfry would fire me for getting fat! Is there anything I need to know before I go to bed?" Harry spoke from the kitchen entryway. Dibby had relinquished his ride and ran into the kitchen to help his mother.

"No Master Harrys, everything is okay, and can be waiting. The owls wants to see you, but has no messages that can't also be waiting," Winky informed him.

"Sounds good. I look forward to that stew for lunch. We have the next thirty for our other work, if you want to get the ball rolling in the morning to fly back to England." Dibby began hopping up and down in excitement.

"Yes Dibby, you'll be with us, on the aeroplane," Harry informed the young elf, who gave a loud, happy squeak and charged his legs again. Winky laughed at her son's behavior and finished the stew. She knew Harry would not leave the young elf behind no matter what.

Theirs was an odd family, but it worked out for them, and while there were other elves in Harry's employ, none were quite so close as Winky and Dibby.

Harry and Dibby talked briefly about the aeroplane, reconfirming it was the Challenger 605 Harry had purchased last year to make their Transatlantic travels easier. They spent 10 minutes on that discussion before Dibby was satisfied and Harry could leave to go on to bed.

He went to his office where the owls had their perches. Their sleeping aerie was in another part of the house, but if Harry was home, they usually kept to the office if they thought he might need them. He slowly opened the door, not wanting to truly disturb them, but knowing they'd be awake and waiting for him if they hadn't gone out to hunt. A low hoot came from inside the darkened room, answering the unspoken question.

"Hi guys, you can tell I'm home," Harry said, as he pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Two pairs of lantern yellow eyes blinked at him from within the office. He moved towards them, managing to avoid any obstacles solely by memory of knowing where every object and piece of furniture was kept. One owl chirrupped at him, a welcoming sound. Harry reached out his hands, and caressed the heads of each bird softly, scratching their favorite spots for a few minutes.

"You are always waiting when I return home. I don't know how you know, Fudai, but you do. Your mother was like that," he said to the one who was trying to purr and meld into his fingers at the same time. The other bird just accepted his attention as her due before gently nibbling his fingers with her beak and then pulling away to go back to sleep. He quietly chuckled at that, "The missus has a point, my dear fellow, it is bed time for all us raptors. Good night my friend." And with a final caress, Harry departed from his office to find his rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN- yes they are short, for now. My chapters are the length they want to be. I will not force them longer when they elect for short and concise. TTFN. PS - these have already been posted on FFN, you're getting them all at once!


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer – Do not own, playing in the sandbox. Please don't sue because I have an overactive imagination!

After spending time with the owls, he managed to get some sleep. His next conscious thought was a reminder to call his overseas partners to arrange meetings. Harry got up and showered before returning to his office to start his working vacation. Winky had left his brunch under a stasis spell on the antique desk he sat down behind. He ate while sorting his mail.

The quiet sounds of envelopes tearing, parchment rustling and pen scratching woke his snowy owl, who chirruped an inquiry at his master.

"No Fudai, rest today, all right? I will have Tomo take the outgoing mail over to Belfry's mail room. I'll need you and Kizaki along for the ride back to Great Britain," Harry explained to his familiar. Fudai barked softly, the other owl in the room still asleep. At least there weren't eggs or chicks to worry about, yet. The owls wouldn't leave them behind, and while Harry expected something soon, he and the elves were prepared. He currently suspected Kizaki's sleep pattern as having come from a prolonged mating. Fudai flew the short distance from perch to desktop for some attention that Harry gladly provided. Fudai had much the same favorite scratching and rubbing areas as his mother, Harry's beloved Hedwig.

It had come as something of a surprise the day he'd received a note via a Hogwarts owl four years ago.* Written by Hagrid, it asked Harry if had any time to visit an old friend. Harry was still in the initial stages of his company, Three Brothers, and living in a refurbished Grimmauld. Once he checked his schedule, he sent a reply back to Hagrid, setting a time to visit two days later for lunch.

**Flashback**

Harry apparated to Hogsmeade, using the approved point beside the Three Broomsticks. He'd arrived with enough time to run a few errands before meeting Hagrid at the landmark eatery. He strode down main street, doing a bit of window shopping before ducking inside Scrivenshaft's for a few minutes to place an order. He checked on the status of an order of crystals with a jeweler before he noticed he had a stalker.

'Hm, who's this now?', he thought to himself. Coming out of the jeweler's, he caught a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye. 'Ah bloody hell, not today,' was his next thought. He didn't need a confrontation with a Weasley, not out here. Shaking his head, he went on to his final errand, at the bookstore. His red headed stalker followed him, and managed to keep out of direct line of sight, but Harry had grown paranoid since the war. He was always able to spot her, and keep her in view.

He raised a small, undetectable shield and turned down a random aisle in the bookstore, hoping to catch this Weasley. Having had a hand in training the last four of that family's children for the war, he expected jinxes to fly at any moment. But either the location or some unknown reason stayed the other's wand.

"Harry?", came the soft, feminine voice of his heart's betrayer. "It is you, isn't it?", Ginny Weasley said, moving closer to his position.

"Good day to you, Miss Weasley," he said, stiffly formal.

"Oh Harry, does it have to be like that? Mum missing you visiting," she claimed, sounding much put upon.

'Ha!', he thought, 'Lying cow. You both were the ones to believe the Prophet's lies, again'. He fairly growled in aggravation.

"I'm sure she does, Miss Weasley. Please convey my deepest apologies that my business has thus far kept me too busy to engage in social frivolities," Harry's voice was cold. He really cared about the Weasleys as a family, but certain members tended to piss him off regularly with their antics. The youngest two, along with their mother being prime examples.

"Harry! There's nothing frivolous about spending time with your family!", Ginny was clearly frustrated, signs of the famous Weasley temper starting to appear on her face.

"Ah, but the Weasley clan is NOT my family," Harry boldly stated, which was only the truth. Throughout his youth he'd been treated as both a near son, and a pariah at turns. With the actual war, Harry'd been both smothered, and ignored. Ginny herself had demanded more than he'd ever been willing to give when they dated, especially when they tried again after the war. But the war had taken a hidden toll on Harry, and very few had been able to help him through that time.

"Harry!", Ginny exclaimed, truly angry now, "That's not true!"

He'd had enough. They were done as a couple, regardless of her attempts to get back with him.

"Really Ginevra? Where was your family during my second year, your first? What about that late summer rescue? Did your parents EVER believe the twins and Ron about the bars on my bedroom window?" Harry went on the attack, starting with the obvious, "Where were they when Sirius escaped? It was damned convenient that you won that award at the Ministry and generated a news story with a lovely family photo on the front page with that damned rat practically front and center! Why did no one realize that rat had completely tripled it's normal lifespan by then?"

Ginny screeched, her wand snapping up in the tell tale movements of her infamous Bat Bogey Hex, quickly followed by a Boil Hex. Both spells splash harmlessly off Harry's shield, but the energy shattered several shelves of books to his left, dropping books and scattering the few patrons.

"Temper Weasley. That's property damage, finable and worth 10 days at the DMLE," Harry sniggered. He doubted she could pay the fine if he called the Hit Wizards*. He' deal with the store owner later.

"Damn you Harry!", she cried. Realizing he was shielded, all Ginny could do now was yell at him, or retreat.

"Been to Hell, Ginevra, don't care for a repeat experience." He was deliberately taunting her now.

"I'll show you hell, Harry Potter!", she snarled, charging him. He finally reeled off a spell. Just a simple Petrificus that naturally stopped her in her tracks. She tipped forward, but he leaned forward and caught her by the shoulders.

"This is a modified Petrificus, Weasley," he purred in her ear, eyes gleaming. "It'll wear off in about an hour, and hopefully, you'll have cooled off by then. But knowing the Weasley temper as intimately as I do, I need to put your somewhere safe." He cast a levitation spell and hauled her to the shop counter by her feet.

"May I use your Floo?", he asked the counter girl, who nodded, wide-eyed with fright. "Thank you. Come along Miss Weasley." He moved to the fireplace and triggered the Floo, throwing the specialized ash mixture within and calling out, "Weasley Wizard Wheezes" in a clear tone.

"George!", he called when the connection was made.

"O partner, my partner!", came the cheerful voice of George Weasley.

"Special red delivery, my favorite menace," Harry called, to warn the man.

"O ho, what'd she do now?", George's head poked through the Floo. He spied her still form floating behind Harry crouched on the flagstones and began laughing.

"The usual, but with some willful destruction of property. I'll handle it, unless someone calls the Hit Wizards," Harry said.

"She'll never learn. Classic insanity," George chortled. Harry grinned, they'd enjoyed catching up on Muggle influences expanding their business ventures. The insanity he spoke of was the type where one keeps trying a thing, and expecting different results. Except, in this case, it never happens.

"Shall I send her through? I need to finish up here and then meet Hagrid for lunch,"Harry inquired politely, green eyes sparking mischief.

"Sure, sure. Send the package through. Time delay?", George said, pulling his head out of the fire.

"Sixty minutes, well, fifty at this point," Harry explained, grabbing Ginny's ankle and roughly tugging. She'd have squawked if the spell allowed for it. Quickly, Harry shoved her still floating body through the open Floo, knowing the levitation spell would collapse once he took his attention off her. He wasn't sure if George would catch her, but honestly didn't care.

"Thanks George! We still on for Friday, half 5?"

"Yeah mate, usual haunt?" George called, having grabbed Ginny on his side.

"Sounds fine, remember the others. See ya then!" And Harry let the connection close once the last of Ginny's long, auburn hair had cleared the hearth.

Harry sighed and stood up, dusting off his jeans. He turned back to the counter girl. "Is the owner on premises today?", he asked solicitously. She nodded and darted away, returning a few moments later with a balding, older wizard who looked ready to cause another scene.

"Good sir, please accept my heart felt apologies on the state of your shop and allow me to make reparations," Harry got right to the heart of the matter.

"Lord Potter! I didn't know you were present. Oh this mess," the owner fussed, his earlier temper forgotten.

"Sir, I would like you to send me the bill for the repairs and replacing the destroyed stock. It was entirely my fault the incident took place, so I feel the need to correct it," Harry pushed.

"Oh, all right, sir. As you wish. I'll have the area roped off for now. Where would you like me to send the information?", the shop owner readily accepted. Harry pulled out a small leather billfold.

"Here is my owl address. Send all the paperwork here and everything will be taken care of. I had a few books to pick up today, so I'll do that and get out of your way, shall I?", Harry handed over the pale ivory card with gold lettering, spelling out a postal drop.

"Of course. I'll leave you to your shopping, m'lord," the owner took the card and bowed, thus excusing himself from Harry, who was already turning to finish shopping. Not fifteen minutes later, he's got everything he needs and checks outs. He shrinks the stack of books and pockets them and heads for the Three Broomsticks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - timing - this fic takes place roughly 4-5 years after the final battle. Any questions, feel free to drop me a line, can't promise I'll answer!
> 
> * first – On the owl thing, which I am making up out of whole cloth. If the parent owls aren't there to hatch and care for the owlet, the magic of the owlery could effectively cause the egg to go into stasis.
> 
> * second - According to HP Lexicon, Hit Wizards are responsible for catching every day criminals, whereas Aurors are responsible for catching Dark Wizards.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I make no claims to this universe; it all belongs to JKR. I do have a lot of fun playing in the sandbox!
> 
> AN – My attempts to write Hagrid's accent are choppy, I know. My brain hates me enough for House Elf speech patterns *hangs head*. Please forgive me?

"'Arry!", booms the gravelly voice of the Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts, Rubeus Hagrid.

"'Lo, Hagrid, how are you?", Harry asked approaching his large friend just outside the restaurant. They hugged and went inside. Rosmerta saw them and waved, welcoming them.

"You boys want a table, or a private room", she called from her spot at the bar. Harry looked around, checking on business at that moment. Of ten tables, and six booths, not even half were filled, but he knew that could change once people realized he was still in town. He looked up at Hagrid.

"Your choice, my friend," he said.  
Hagrid looked at his young wizard friend and around the main room as well. "How about a private room?", he suggested. Harry agreed and Rosmerta showed them to a private room.

They sat down to lunch, catching up with each other over their food. Over firewhiskey, they talked about the coming school year, and changes McGonagall was implementing.

"She's gotten Binns ta retire, finally," Hagrid rumbled.

"Good, he could never teach anything beyond the Goblin Rebellions. Still shock my accountants that I'm not a typical wizard," Harry replied, smiling.

"Ha!", Hagrid boomed, laughing. "Now the real reason I ask'd ya 'ere, 'Arry," he said, reaching into a pocket of his great overcoat. Harry had wondered. The coat had a tendency to move on it's own in little twitches and the oddest sounds came from the depths of it's folds and pockets.

Hagrid pulled out a smallish, white and fluffy object that hooted sorrowfully. "'Ere ya go, little man," he said, letting what turned out to be a young owl, just out of fledging, right itself on his fingers. The little bird fluffed its feathers out, transforming into a puffball, clacking its beak at the indignity of riding in a pocket. Harry looked on with amusement.

"It's a snowy, isn't it?", he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yep, but the best part," Hagrid began chortling with glee, "He's Hedwig's baby!"

Harry's eyes went wide behind his glasses. "No", he breathed, shocked. "I never realized she'd taken a mate."

"Usually post owls mate for life, but Hedwig didn't. I think she chose her familiar bond over a mating one," Hagrid speculated.*

Harry's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise. Meanwhile, the young owlet had oriented himself and turned his head to listen to the voices he heard. The owl laid golden eyes on Harry, and chirruped an inquisitive note. Harry made a small 'prrt' noise in his throat, not quite calling the bird, but just making a sound. The owlet flapped his wings and lifted off Hagrid's forefinger, and flew the very short distance to Harry's shoulder.

"Hello there," Harry whispered, not daring to move as the owl settled into his new spot. The bird turned his head and immediately began preening Harry's hair. An action that Hedwig always indulged in.

"Yeah, he's yours now, 'Arry. If you want 'im as a post owl, you'll 'ave to take 'im to Eeylops for banding*," Hagrid said, wiry beard bristling as he beamed a smile at the new pair of friends.

"Hm, I guess so!" Harry affirmed, reaching up a hand to scratch at the owl in places he vaguely remembered his first best friend preferring such attention. The young owl leaned into Harry's attentions so much, he fell off his perch, making Harry laugh even as as he held a now disgruntled owl in his hands.

"All right, mate. Sorry. Your enthusiasm is wonderful. We'll have to come up with a name later, huh?", Harry apologized. The owl hooted, clearly accepting Harry's apology.

Harry and Hagrid talked for only a little longer, before Harry had to leave for another appointment. He transferred the owlet back to his shoulder on his way out of the Three Broomsticks. And that distraction cost them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *1 – Okay, I'm speculating a hell of a lot on magical owls in this world, making up a ton of stuff I'm sure is tripe. Owls have 2 bonds, familiar and mating. If they are a person's owl, it's usually the familiar bond, otherwise they have a mating bond with another owl (continuation of the species). Alternately, they can "drop" the familiar bond for the mating one later, or not, as Hedwig did, when choosing a mate (usually when their person grows up, gets a family of their own, or belongs to a larger family and has many owls, like the Malfoys).
> 
> *2 – How do you think the wizards really know how to tell the difference between all these look a like owls? The bands are like typical birding bands, but have a tiny magical signature embedded in them to let the owls use magical entrances and such for the post.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: same verse as before...Italics indicate mental spell/speech

A meaty fist swung seemingly from nowhere, startling the little owl into screeching flight and slamming into Harry's jaw, dislocating it instantly. He'd turned his head towards his owl, and that made it easier for his attacker to target him. He stumbled and fell against the building of the restaurant, clutching the white-hot painful jaw, blinking away the sudden tears. The owl continued screeching and arrowed down to attack his owner's attacker.

“Bloody bird!” a recognizable voice cried in outrage. The voice helped Harry focus past his pain. Temporarily robbed of the ability to speak did not mean he was defenseless. Harry's mage talent surged up, a small tidal wave, in response to his desire. A simple flicking gesture with his right hand had his ginger haired attacker scrapping boot heels against the ground as an unseen wall of force impacted him and shoved him away.

Hagrid came out of the Three Broomsticks by then. “'Ere now, Ron Weasley, what's gotten into ya?” he exclaimed, confused. He moved forward to put a stop to the brawl. “'Arry, are you all right?” he turned to his young friend after seeing that Ron was unable to move. Harry grunted, waving his hand at his face. His jaw was already swelling from the dislocation.  
“Ah. I'll get Madam Rosemerta to lend us a hand,” Hagrid said, ducking back inside, and calling for the publican.

This gave Harry a brief respite to cross the street to Ron, still held in place by his spell. He quickly cast another wordless one, temporarily giving him speech, mind to mind.*  
 _*Damn you Ron Weasley. What the hell was for?*_

“Potter! You bloody freak, what the hell,” Ron shouted. Another silent spell and Ron's voice was silenced.

_*Shut up and listen. I have a feeling you're here because of your aggrieved sister. Well screw you, Weasley, screw you both. She doesn't know know when to quit, and I've had it with the pair of you. When Rosie gets here, the Hit Wizards will be called.*_ Ron's eyes got large in his face. Harry'd never done that before when they argued.

_*Yes Ron, you're going up on charges for assault. I'm well passed tired of the abuse heaped upon me by certain members of your family. After this, WE ARE THROUGH.*_ Each word of his final sentence was punctuated with a stab of mental pain strong enough to cause a migraine. All three eventually caused Ron to collapse against the magical force holding him, moaning in pain, eyes screwed tightly shut. Harry let the spells go, falling to his knees with his own pain. The young owl returned to him, hovering before him and making low hoots, concerned for its master. Harry reached out a trembling hand to touch the owl on the breast feathers.

Rosmerta and two of her waitstaff came out of the Three Broomsticks to help Harry and Ron. “All right young bucks. St. Mungo's has been called as well as the Hit Wizards. They'll get this mess straightened out. But you'll both come with us back inside. Up ya get, Mr Weasley,” Rosemerta had Ron by the arms, while her two helpers assisted Harry back inside. Harry's little snowy flew up to perch on the roofline, out of the way.

Back inside, Rosemerta brought both young men to the same private room Harry'd used for his lunch with Hagrid, but wisely sat them across the room from each other. The jostling that Ron received succeeded in making him sick enough to vomit on the hardwood floor.  
“And I'll thank you not to do that again, sir,” the young waitress said, conjuring a bucket for him to use and vanishing the previous sick.  
Harry was gently placed on a transfigured couch, and given a conjured ice pack to hold against his swollen jaw. Hagrid rejoined them after a few minutes, leading three Healers in green robes and four Hit Wizards in red, with an Auror in a blue robe, trimmed in red.

“What seems to be the problem, Madam Rosemerta?”, the Auror asked.  
“Not really sure Auror Smythewyck. Everything was fine today, I can tell you that,” she nodded her head sharply for emphasis. “Lord Potter came to lunch with Hagrid, and left, but then, Hagrid came back a'shoutin' for Healers and Hit Wizards,” she concluded.

“Hagrid?” the Auror asked for clarification.  
“Tha'd be me, Auror. Rubeus Hagrid. I'm Groundskeeper up at Hogwarts,” the half giant rumbled, standing by Harry.  
“Did you see what happened?”, Auror Smythewyck asked.  
“Just where Ron Weasley was being held against the wall of the shop 'cross the street, unable to move. Harry'd already been hurt,” Hagrid simply explained.

The Healers bustled about, triaging the two young men and taking time to confer with each other.  
“Healer Jameson?”, the Auror asked next. One Healer broke away from the others, and walked to the Auror.  
“Mr Weasley seems to be suffering from a migraine, cause unspecified, while Lord Potter has at least a broken jaw. Oh, and it appears that Mr Weasley has bruised knuckles on his right hand,” the Healer, a middle aged man, informed him.  
“Hm. Consistent with a punch being thrown, but I'd like to hear it from them. Can they be healed here?”, Smythewyck wondered.  
“Yes, Kendra and Tom can perform the spells now in fact,” Healer Jameson indicated his peers in green. Kendra went to Harry and began casting a number of spells to take down swelling and reseat his jaw back in line, as well as adjust the stressed tendons. Tom went to Ron and at least handled the migraine symptoms of nausea, blinding pain and sensitivity to light and sound. One of the Hit Wizards stopped him from healing Ron's hands, just by mentioning “evidence”.

Harry rubbed his face, noticing a lingering tenderness. He looked at his Healer.  
“Yes, Lord Potter. There will be some residual soreness. I strongly suggest soft food for the rest of the day, if not liquids. You can talk, but I'd prefer it if you didn't after interview,” Kendra told him. He smiled at the young woman in green, her blue eyes sparkling from a small, oval face and under pale brown hair cut in a stylish bob. He nodded agreement and then looked at the Auror.

“I exited the Broomsticks, and was surprised with a fist to my jaw,” Harry explained quietly, with no preamble, and voice devoid of emotion. Ron grunted from across the room but everyone save the Healer working on him, ignored him. “My new owl was frightened off. I hope he's not hurt,” Harry finished.  
“Sounds straight forward, but these things rarely are. May I retrieve a Dictation Quill and Parchment?”, the Auror queried. Harry nodded. Meanwhile, the other Healer finished with Ron.  
“You'll be fine now, Mr Weasley, but come to St. Mungo's if you experience any return of symptoms in the next 48 hours all right?” Ron was told.  
“Yeah sure. I'll do that, thanks,” Ron muttered, head in his hands.  
“Mr Weasley, if it's okay with you, I'll record Lord Potter's story, then excuse him to get yours?” Auror Smythewyck informed him. Ron accepted this idea, and Smythewyck recorded Harry's version of events. Harry expounded a little, having gotten some honeyed tea from Rosemerta for his throat and mouth. He informed the Auror and Hit Wizards of the spells he'd used but requested that they wait on a demonstration of his rather rare ability until after he'd healed. They agreed, with the provision that he'd show the whole DMLE.

Once he was done giving his statement, Harry was free to leave. He asked the Healers to send their bills to him, and passed out his owl address card again. This caught both Ron and Auror Smythewyck by surprise. Usually the injured party got the free healing, not the attacker.

Smythewyck was relatively new to the British DMLE, having been signed away from South Africa shortly after the war ended. He knew in broad terms who Potter and Weasley were, but refused to treat anyone special. This would be an interesting case once his superiors got wind of it.  
“All right Mr Weasley, your turn. The Dicta-Quill will record your answers, and then you are free to go,” Smythewyck explained.  
Ron Weasley then explained everything. From seeing his petrified sister manhandled through the Floo, the anxious wait until the spell wore off. Her dramatic retelling of the fight SHE had with Harry Potter at the bookstore, that apparently painted Harry as the aggressor. Smythewyck wasn't so sure, but didn't interrupt. Weasley kept on, saying how this had been the last straw, and didn't Harry appreciate everything their family'd sacrificed over the last 7.5 years? So Ron convinced himself to come to Hogsmeade and confront Harry over the slight on his sister's honor. Thus, the attack. Smythewyck just accepts all the information, prompting Weasley to keep going whenever he falters. Ron's not sure what to make of Harry's freakish silent casting abilities. Hadn't known his former friend could do that. Tells the assemblage anyway. How after he'd thrown the punch, Harry had twitched a single hand, and practically thrown him across the street and pinned him to a wall. Then entered his mind, spoke to him, ended their friendship and let him go. The Hit Wizards and Healers were shocked and confused. No one had that kind of power! It was one thing for Harry to calmly describe these as things he'd cast, but the import of the results was huge. Smythewyck just accepted this information too. There was more in the great wide world than the Brits had ever forgotten about.

“This information is now 'need-to-know'. Talk about it only with those present in this room, or your direct superiors as regards this case. Is that clear?” he growled out. The Hit Wizards immediately nodded. The two younger Healers looked to Jameson, who nodded, covering for all three of them.  
“Go home now, Mr Weasley. If we need you, or your sister, we'll contact you,” he said, tone only slightly softer than gravel.  
Ron nodded wearily and stood. He left after thanking the Healers for their prompt attention. He asked Tom to send him his bill anyway. Tom nodded noncommittally.   
“Well folks, what another fine mess we've gotten into,” Jameson said when it was just the eight of them. Smythewyck smirked before rolling up his parchments and sending everyone back to Diagon Alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - No, this isn't Legilimency, defined at HP Lexicon as mind reading, and it's not Occlumency, as that's occluding, or hiding, the mind. This is one of Harry's new talents.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: same as before; do not own, please don't sue. Back to the present! And a short one!

Harry shook off the bad memories, still petting Fudai. “What an exciting introduction to each other, huh mate?” Harry asked. Fudai made a chuckling kind of bark, knowing what Harry referred to. Harry laughed with his familiar. The resultant investigation had done what Harry couldn't – severed the final ties between him and the Weasley family.

Except, not even twelve hours passed, and Harry had communiques from George, Bill and Charlie, making it clear where THEY stood in the fiasco. Harry met them for the usual business dinner and tried to dissuade them from breaking away from their family. Carefully, they take turns shooting him down, telling him how wrong he was. How proud they were to be his friends, business partners. Bill reminded him of Fleur, which made Harry blush, causing general laughter around the table.

That night only solidified Three Brothers more.

Harry finally got up, calling Tomo to him. The older elf appeared with a pop, and bowed.  
“Yes Master Harrys?” he said, straightening.  
Harry smiled at the elf wearing a yukata tied with an obi in the House Potter colors of purple and gold.* “Tomo, I have outgoing mail I need taken to Belfry, as well as my report from this last mission. If you don't mind taking it all?”, he never ordered his elves, even those bonded to him.  
“Of course Master Harrys!”, Tomo bowed again, hands reaching out to accept the package Harry had waiting to go.  
“Thank you, Tomo. We're packing up for England today, for when you get back,” Harry continued, handing over the two envelopes.

“Winky be telling us, Master. Lots chosen to see who goes with yous in the metal birdy,” Tomo responded, eyes blinking.  
Harry laughed and dismissed the elf before turning back to his owls. “If you need to hunt before we go, I estimate wheels up in ten hours. Be back here in eight, ok?” Harry tells them. Two head bobs later, and Harry can get on with his work.

 

He checked on the previous trip's activity, seeing everything that had been accomplished over the intervening time. Several of the divisions were constant profit makers, and only a couple had dipped since his last visit. Harry wrote himself notes to track what he wanted to cover before making his calls. He checked the time difference, noting it wasn't too late, before dialing the Longbottoms.  
“Longbottom Manor, Neville speaking,” was the answering accented tenor, after about four rings.  
“Nev? Harry. Wanted to check in,” Harry began.  
“Harry! Back already? Flying east then?” Neville laughed. Out of all his school year mates that didn't have muggle backgrounds, Neville had adjusted to a muggle influenced life the easiest.  
“Yeah Nev, simple mission. I've got 20 days to mess about with, and want to go over the quarterlies coming up in case I get a big one this time,” Harry explains, one should lifting in a useless shrug.  
“Sure, and you want to bother us all, right?” Neville jokes, but gets serious just a moment later, “But really Harry, everything went okay this time?”  
“Yes Neville, perfectly fine, I swear. I've got wheels up in 9.5, so expect me, Winky and Dibby for morning tea, all right?” Harry answered, all hints of joking gone from his own voice. He knew his friends worried deeply about his job with Belfry. The jobs weren't always safe, or quiet guard duty type missions.  
“All right Har, good enough for me, but you know the girls. Shall I contact everyone then, and arrange for a luncheon somewhere?” Neville confirmed.  
“Please mate, as we're running long,” laughter curled through Harry's voice again.  
“Cost too many knuts to call home now?” Neville practically cackled.  
That made Harry roar with laughter. The absolute absurdity, that he had to count knuts.  
“All right, see you in the morning!” Harry signed off, having more to accomplish that day.  
“Yep, see ya mate!” Neville said in farewell, disconnecting the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - Harry's picked up elves from several countries, and lets them wear whatever uniform they are comfortable with. Also, wild guess on Potter colors!


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Author makes no claims to the characters, spells, backgrounds or other recognizable entities from the Harry Potter Universe. It all belongs to JKR. I am just playing in the sandbox!  
> AN – sorry it took so long to get a new chapter out. Muse wasn't being helpful regarding a good plotline!

Harry woke to the tapping of an owl on the window of his bedroom. “Hrmpf?”, he grunted, confused and only half awake. One of the elves appeared with a pop and opened the window.  
“Silly owl wakes Master Harrys! What so important it can'ts waits?” Harry identified Ril by her voice. He rolled onto his back and rubbed his face with one hand. The Boreal owl hooted imperiously at the elf, flying over to the bed to haughtily stick its parchment bearing foot near Harry's face. The little bird's attitude was rather funny; it was so small, most wizards ignored it when they needed mail delivered.

“A'right, a'right. Gimmee a mo' then”, he grumped, sitting up. He untied the parchment and the owl flapped its way back out of the house.  
“Ril, could I have coffee please?”, he asked, unrolling the scroll to read it.  
“Yes Master Harrys,” the little elf said before popping away. She came back with a coffee service, and served him a steaming mug with a splash of milk and 2 sugars. He took a couple of good swallows and reread the parchment. Ril popped away, services rendered.

“Well, shite. Winky?” he called on his head elf. She appeared, with a nearly silent pop, “Yes Harrys?”  
“Vacation's over, Winky. I'm being recalled to the nearest Belfry office,” he informed her. He drained the mug and put it on the nightstand so he could get out of bed.  
“You needs the bug-outs baggie, then? I will needs to get it out of the planey,” Winky thought about it a moment, but knew it wouldn't take but a few minutes to get his traveling pack.  
“Yes. And until I know what they need, I don't know if we need to close up the manse or not. I'm going to Edinburgh, which is only an Apparate. How about a breakfast sandwich after I get a shower?” Harry told her, standing beside the bed and stretching.  
“Done, Harrys. Will be waiting in the nooks when you gets out,” Winky agreed, leaving him alone to get started.

Harry took a shower, taking time to meditate and clear his sleep muffled head. He pulled on baggy jeans, and a navy polo, then laced up black combat boots. Rather business casual, but good enough for what was presumably just an interview for a new operation. In the small nook of his bedroom, a tray sat waiting on the little table. This tray bore a silvery gray thermos, and a wrapped sandwich that Harry quickly picked up and unwrapped to eat. It was a muffin stuffed with a folded bit of scramble, bacon, and cheese; enough to satisfy Harry's early hunger, but not leave him feeling stuffed and sluggish. On the nearby winged armchair was a medium sized, black duffel. He strapped the thermos into a stretchy elastic along the top of the duffel and grabbed the bag's handles. He left his room and headed for the foyer of the house, the only acceptable apparition point he maintained within the property's wards. It was still only keyed to him.  
“Winky!”, he called, “I'll send word when I know what Belfry's got me doing.” And he called upon his magic to Apparate towards the Edinburgh office of Belfry Securities.

 

Just a few minutes later, Harry appeared at the station Belfry had separated from their main building. He cleared security and went into the big, brick monster to find out about his new assignment.  
“Hello there,” he introduced himself to the front desk, “I'm Agent Harry Potter, reporting under an early recall.”  
“Oh, okay. Um,” the young woman looked at the paperwork in front of her, “Looks like you're going to see Bellamy Friarson. And he's on the 3rd floor, office 325.” She smiled up at Harry who grinned back. 

“Thank you,” Harry told the secretary as he moved on to the elevators. He went up to the 3rd floor, badged through the security there, and wandered down the halls to find office 325. He knocked on the closed door before him, noting the sensation of a ward line across the threshold.  
“Come!”, was shouted from the other side, dropping the ward long enough for Harry to step into the office.  
“Mr. Friarson? Agent Potter, reporting as ordered,” Harry said as he closed the door behind him. As the latch clicked, the ward surged back up, sending a frisson of energy up Harry's arm, like goosebumps. It made him a little uncomfortable, but felt privately confident he could snap the ward if he had to get out of the room in a hurry.  
“Right, Potter,” Friarson moved several files on his desk, looking for the one he needed to give his agent. Harry looked on, noting the apparent perpetual clutter of the man's office. The man himself did not inspire confidence. He was a small man, not like Flitwick, but short for a human. His hair was sparse and getting thinner, being a dishwater blond color that blended into his skintone. The squinty eyes of a mud puddle brown are nearly lost in wrinkly folds around his face and making for a thick set jowl.  
Bellamy found the file with an abrupt “Aha!” and waved Harry to the stool in front of the man's desk that was the only seating besides his own to remain free of clutter. “This is your new assignment. A group of archaeologists working in Siberia,” Harry's eyebrows rose, “found a pair of magical items thought long lost or nothing more than legend well before Merlin's time,” Friarson explained.

Harry flipped through the file of info to see what he was up against. “Will it be just me, or a team?” he needed to know.  
“Just you. The diggers only number 5, the camp is small. No problem, right?”, Friarson said, moving on to the next thing before him, clearly dismissing Harry.  
“Hm. All right then, thank you sir,” and Harry left the man's office.

He ambled towards the security desk, intent on getting directions to the Supply group. They directed him to the basement levels of Belfry Edinburgh and on his way, he takes out his cell to call home and request they get the plane ready to leave. He received confirmation and hung up to go play in Supply.

He had that group of overworked and never appreciated – never by him – individuals put together a response kit for the wilds of Siberia, and a spare because who knew what was out there? He then pulls out of his own bag, a pair of translocator disks, cobbled together by the Weasley brothers and himself one drunken night. As soon as the Supply boys are all off doing other things, Harry triggers the minor spell in the disks that only he can use. While the spell is minor, the power behind it, is not. Harry has to concentrate for a full minute on each disk to move whatever they are attached to, up to a point. Bu they hadn't found that point yet. The kits would reappear aboard the jet, waiting for use.

When the kits are gone, Harry tucks the folder into his duffel, heads back up to the main floor and goes to the Apparition station. He signs out with the secretary, and then makes his way home. Next stop, Siberia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS - I do wish I hadn't started the weird style on the House Elves...hates it I do, precious.  
> And it's not clear, but he was in England at the time!


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer – same as before! Just playing!

“Siberia is beautiful, Mum. Not a frozen wasteland as so many assume. One of these days I might get to the bottom of that. Anyway, the objects we found had Donna in a tizzy. She made Elliott call the Home Office and they are sending security. Security Mum! Way out here!”, Hermione huffed as she recorded a letter to her mother via Dicta-Quill. She was shortly interrupted when a cry echoed in the little camp, “Broom!”

All five members gathered in the large, open area between their tents to watch the rider approach. Hermione kept her wand loose, but ready in her hand, ready to fire off a disarming spell if the broom rider became hostile.

“Halloo the camp!” cried the rider when they were perhaps 100 yards off. The voice was oddly familiar to Hermione, but she couldn't immediately place it. The rider got closer, resolved into a male, with long, black hair of indeterminate length. Hermione squinted as the rider made a slow loop of the camp, looking it over, but making no threatening moves. The lanky frame was large, she could tell, but couldn't exactly tell how tall this man would be. The newcomer circled a few more times before landing smartly in the middle of the open space beside the fire pit.  
“Hello! I'm looking for Elliott Romo? The museum called Belfry Securities to come take a look at what you might need,” the young man states, waiting for the group to move. The women of the group feasted on the sight of the newcomer, collar length, jet black hair, bright green eyes in a carefree face of about 20. Overall, the young man was tall, nearly 6', with a lanky, muscular frame well used to doing an honest day's work, not at all like a typical wizard.  
One of the men came forward, a short man, of blond, close cropped hair and pale blue eyes, “I'm Elliott. And you are?”  
“Harry!”, Hermione exclaimed, surprised, from where she stood by her tent. The newcomer gave a lopsided grin and acknowledged her.  
“Hello, Ms. Granger, fancy meeting you here. Mr. Romo, I'm Harry Potter,” Harry strode forward to shake hands with Elliott.

“Ah, a pleasure Mr. Potter. Tell me, is it just you?”, Elliott was a little worried that the museum had only seen fit to hire one security guard, even if it was the famous Harry Potter.  
“Yes, which is of no matter. Unless there's more to this camp and dig site than Belfry was told about?”, Harry glared at the shorter man. Elliott instinctively took a half step back from that piercing look, and scrubbed a hand against the back of his neck, protectively. “Ah, no. This and the dig site is all there is, Mr. Potter. Shall I introduce you to the rest of the team?”, he sounded shaky, and he couldn't figure out why.  
“Please, then I would like to see the dig site to get started on establishing some protections over the area area,” Harry responded, shrinking his broom with a negligent wave of his right hand. 

Hermione's eyes nearly came out of her head at the casual display of wandless magic. Elliott brought her old friend to each member of the team. Harry was doing something at each meeting, but she couldn't tell what. All she could determine was the slow blinking his eyes did as he spoke a few minutes with each person. Donna and Kat simpered at him, but he was cool and professional. A far cry from their school days when he'd blush and stammer from a pretty girl's attention.

Hermione wondered at the enigma he presented her, just as the pair of them got to where she still stood at the entrance to her tent. Elliott began speaking, “And this is the last, but never least of our beauteous ladies, Hermione Granger. Though it sounds as if you two already know each other?” He stopped a few feet away, and eyed the two. He wondered what kind of history they had.  
“You could say that,” Harry hinted, but he'd let Hermione reveal their past.  
“We went to school together, Elliott, in Scotland. And fought together in the war,” she explained, and yet, didn't.  
Harry noticed how little emotion she put into her statement, and carefully looked at his old friend. As with the others, he used his Sight to check her aura, and catalog what he saw. The aura was a good indicator for whether a person was under coercive spells and some potions. Two of the others bore such signs, something he'd have to take up with Elliott later.  
Hermione now, she was as she ever was. Only her hair had changed, with a cut to bring it to chin length, and probably some kind of product to smooth the curl out of it. He nearly sighed at that. Her hair was nearly a trademark part of her, and for it to be gone marked a huge transitory step he wasn't sure he wanted to know about.

However, something had happened to send her out of Britain to complete her education in America, and then get a job with the Smithsonian rather than return to jolly ol'England. He wondered if the Wonder Weasel had as much to do with her decisions as he'd affected some of Harry's. Maybe they'd get a chance to talk about it. Maybe.

He finished his scan and turned to Elliott. “Whenever you're ready, Mr. Romo.” Hermione turned pink, being dismissed like that. Harry watched her out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a reaction.  
“Ah, as to that, Mr. Potter. Perhaps one of the others could show you the site? I was in the middle of my reports when you arrived,” Elliott nervously twisted his hands together.  
“Oh, I see. Well, perhaps I can check with Ms. Vinatieri, or Ms. Crosby?”, Harry poked, still waiting on Hermione. He did know that Crosby was one of the affected, and could take the opportunity to start his investigation.

“I could take him, Elliott,” Hermione spoke up, suddenly and inexplicably nervous.  
“Good enough for me!”, Elliott says, smiling happily, “I'll be in my tent when you return.” And he walked away from the pair of old school friends. He hated the reports, but as leader of the expedition, it fell on him to keep track of everything. The Smithsonian Museum of Magic was a particular entity when it came to tracking all the details of their expeditions.  
Harry smiled as he turned back to Hermione, “So, this is the grown up Hermione Granger?” he asked, playfully.  
She snorted, but smiled, “Yes indeed. Always the note of surprise.” He laughed, a deep, rich sound that thrilled her to her toes. He'd never sounded so carefree in school.  
“So, the artifact site?”, Harry got down to business.  
“Right, it's just this way, if you don't mind a short walk?”, she indicated a path away from the tents, cut into the scrubby brush.  
“Nah, though I assume you all apparate as often as possible?” He checked, wondering whether anti-apparition wards would be useful in his security plan.  
“Most of the others do. I prefer to walk out in the morning and apparate back, unless I've found artifacts during the day,” Hermione explained as they hiked the short distance away from camp to the claim.  
“So aside from this big discovery, you are finding other items?” Harry sounded curious, keeping easy pace with her along the track.  
“Yes! We have found evidence of a small settlement dating back to at least Merlin's time,” she got excited as she always did when talking about her interests or work.  
“That's good,” he complimented. They lapsed into companionable silence. A few minutes later, they rounded a small hillock, and Hermione said, “And there's the dig.”


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: same as before. Any errors in archaeological conduct are my own! Warning for cursing (not spells!) See the bottom for AN News!

Harry surveyed the dig site. It was laid out in a precise grid pattern, with short stakes sticking out of the ground, labeled with either letters or numbers to make it easier to track where artifacts were pulled out. Off to one side is a tent, one flap tied back to make it easy for the archaeologists to enter and exit when their hands are full. Harry will investigate this tent last.

He sees shake tables along the edges of the pit, as well as the piles of “clean” dirt* acting as wind breaks. “This all there is?”, he asks his friend. She nods, confirming his information. He walks the whole site, scanning the place with his Sight active. Hermione stands by a shake table, and watches him amble off.  
“What are you doing?”, she finally asks as he approached her place again.  
“Checking for ambient magic, anything out of the ordinary,” he muttered, then turns to head for the artifacts tent. She walked after him, to make sure nothing got disturbed while he was poking around.

“Holy crap!”, he grunts, from the entrance of the tent. He backs up, hands coming up to cover his eyes, and Hermione can see tears dripping down his cheeks.  
“Harry, what's wrong?”, Hermione feared for her friend, but did not touch him. During the war, he had a tendency to lash out at what he couldn't see.  
“Powerful, bright,” Harry mutters incompletely, rubbing his eyes to clear the glare spots from his Aura Sight. He turned his back on the tent to give himself a moment to disconnect. He rubs his eyes harder, drawing out more tears. Hermione offered a handkerchief to him, and he smiles, declining.  
“I'm all right. Just, not expecting that level of power.” Harry straightens up, blinking away the last of the tears. He focuses on a distant cloud in the sky, centering himself.  
“Power?”, Hermione wonders. The team hadn't registered anything unusual.  
“Hm,” Harry makes a noncommittal noise.  
“None of the artifacts have tested out as being particularly powerful, Harry. What do you mean?”, Hermione wanted to know.  
“It would only register if you have Sight, Hermione,” Harry said, turning to go back into the tent. He pushed aside the canvas again, and ducks inside. Hermione followed, her curiosity at full bore.

Inside the tent are several tables and a few chairs. Each table is scattered with the business of archaeologists. Baggies with small bits of ancient refuse and broken bits of old lives, pens and notebooks mixed in amongst the other tools: the hammers, chisels, fine paintbrushes, cans of condensed air, and other fine tools. One table, against the opposite wall, held large, plastic bins that was the final storage for all the pieces.

“Explain all this please?”, Harry asked as he prowled the interior, looking like a caged panther to Hermione.  
“This is where we process all the finds. Clean them up as best we can,” she started.  
“Using Muggle methods?” Harry interrupted, lips curled in something of a smile as he baited her.  
“More efficient, don't interrupt,”she huffed. He smiled and waved at her to continue. “Cataloging is important, and we can expand on that from our field notes every day,” she finished.  
“Then all the pieces are left here? Not secured in some fashion?”, Harry was at the storage bins, looking at the numbered bags in one of them.  
“Yes, we've not needed anything more secure. Why Harry? Why are you here?”, she wanted to know.  
“Elliott didn't tell you? Perhaps later, after I've done my initial set up,” Harry said, promising nothing.  
“Still aggravating, I see. Working in secrets,” Hermione spit, getting angry. 'Typical behavior from him', she thought to herself.

Harry turned on her, emerald fire in his eyes. “Hermione, how long has it been?”, he asked, his voice velvety steel. Something skittered across Hermione's senses just then, too quick for her to identify it.  
“I think, five years?”, she whispered, that something restraining a more emotive response from her.  
“Don't you think that some things will change? But the more important things will stay the same? If I “work in secrets”, there must be a reason for it, yes?”, Harry asked her, keeping her pinned with his stare. She couldn't even squirm.

“This isn't the war anymore, Harry,” she tried to explain, but that seemed to make him even more upset.  
“Hermione!” he exclaimed, a lance of power in the word that had her straightening to attention. “Of all people, I am WELL aware of this. You have no idea how happy I am that that **damned** war is well and truly over. You also have a school girl's memories of who I was, so I will forgive you this, this time.” And he stalked out of the tent, brushing past her into the open.

It was only then that she realized what she'd been feeling in tent, was the fluctuating coils of Harry's power. It simultaneously gave her goosebumps from excitement, and shivers from fear. There was so much she didn't know and she was determined to figure out the new, mysterious Mr. Potter that had wandered back into her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN - “Clean dirt” - piles of shifted dirt left after the crew has checked for artifacts. Called “clean” here for the purposes of denoting that it's already been shifted.
> 
> AN #2:Announcement time! First, I'm sorry this is late. I know it's only Monday, and I'm not that   
> late. However, I have preferred to get my stories out every weekend. That didn't happen this time. I have caught whatever ick is crawling around, thanks to my devoted husband *glares in his general direction*. That slowed me down considerably, for all that I'm medicated, and am still plugging away. I also got an editing request and that also made editing my work that much more thorough. And I'm running 3 stories at once, so everything got slow. No real excuse except being sick, and taking on a bit more work than I'm used to. 
> 
> Also, I've put up notes in my profiles (on FFN and AO3) where you can find me elsewhere if you want to get story background, or just come harass me. I write posts under filter, on Dreamwidth and Livejournal, so you won't be getting crap you don't want to see. Each journal has a 'sticky' that lists those filters, with the comments screened. You just have to leave me a comment saying “I'm from 'whatever fiction site', and I want to be on your fanfic filter!” and I'll let you in. You'll get to see where I ramble about my storylines, whine about the characters, and mumble about new stories. I also have a Facebook, under this handle (only thing that stayed the same, as the journals are older). I might be going to an every other week posting schedule.
> 
> A couple of new stories are trying to crowd their way out of my gray matter, and well, I need some time to write them, and keep up with the others. I don't want to release more, but I also feel like one or more of the 3 I've got going on are winding down. I would also like a couple weeks RIGHT NOW to get ahead of myself a bit more. So bear with me. I know where my stories are going, and the well is not drying up on any of them. I refuse to let a story just die and not get finished. (I also don't like those 'chapters' that aren't anything other than an author's note, which this is quickly becoming, lol!) So if I don't post for a couple weeks, please don't freak out, just, PM me or something – I have some health issues I have to wrangle (aside from this cold), and some other real life stuff I want to mess with. Cripes this is a long author's note. But I think that's everything. See you when I see you!


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer – same as before! Do not own, please don't sue because I have an overactive imagination!  
> AN – any issues with archaeology are my own.

Harry took out his wand as he left the tent; no longer the one of holly and phoenix feather, nor the dread Elder Wand, but a newer one of oak and dragon heartstring, specially made by Ollivander shortly after the war. He marched back out to the dig site, and standing by the pit, began casting a series of spells. Hermione stood under the open tent flap, watching her old friend begin to spell cast. Yet more questions crowded into her mind, as his aura flared into the visible spectrum with the power he put into whatever spells he cast on the site.

After fifteen minutes, Harry was finished and he looked at her. “I'm apparating back to camp to talk to Elliott. You are welcome to join us for that discussion. It may answer some of your questions,” and he suited actions to words, disappearing with no obvious sound. She goggled at that, knowing it was nearly impossible to achieve silent apparition, before summoning her own magic to follow immediately after him.

A pair of black eyes kept watch until the pair disappeared from sight, before Kat Crosby stepped out of the nearby bushes and headed for the artifact tent. She tried to gain entrance, and discovered it was warded shut, an invisible barrier keeping her out. “Dammit,” she snarled, kicking a few loose rocks. She turned to go back to camp, not ready to try unraveling the spells Potter had cast.

She was watched from another clump of bushes by a pair of brown eyes. But that person just faded into the shadows to go back to camp. They both had much to think about.

 

Harry and Hermione reappeared in the common area and headed for Elliott's tent. Harry triggered the wizarding version of a knock at the door to let Elliott know they were waiting for him. Elliott pulled aside the canvas and welcomed them inside a fairly comfortable, wizard tent sitting room. Harry took a plush, brown leather armchair to sit on, while Hermione perched on the edge of the green, paisley couch.

“Tea anyone?”, Elliott asked as he went past the pair and into the kitchen area.. He waved his wand at the stove, turning on the burner beneath the kettle.  
“Yes, please,” Hermione accepted. Harry declined. Elliott offered him another beverage, but was again denied.

“Mr. Romo,” Harry began.  
“Elliott, please,” the archaeologist insisted, clattering about the kitchen with a tea service.  
“Then call me Harry, all right? Do you mind if I cast some privacy spells around the sitting room? It's standard procedure when we arrive to brief our contract holders,” Harry asked. Some Belfry agents would cast first, and explain later, but it was preferred by management to ask first. A courtesy Harry liked.  
“I suppose? Is it that dangerous?”, Elliott was surprised. Hermione kept silent, not knowing what Harry was up to, though she was frustrated by the damned secrecy!  
“It is more keeping things need to know. Thank you,” Harry explained, then waited until Elliott settled on the other end of the couch with the tea service before casting Imperturbable spells, and even a Silencio on the tent doorflaps.

“All right. The dig site has an initial layer of protective spells on it. I will be adding ward stones tomorrow. Belfry sent me because of my abilities outside of security work,” Hermione's innate curiosity was peaked as Harry talked, “I will just say that I have the Sight, and was able to determine a few things about your people and about some of the items you've already dug up. As well as a few other talents I prefer to keep to myself for now.”  
“The Sight? You're not a Seer,” Elliott said, plainly confused.  
“Mage Sight, Elliott. He can see auras, at least,” Hermione explained. Harry nodded.

“Two members of your expedition are under the influence of potions, mind magics, or both. It is out of my purview to do anything about them, right now,” he said, “The contract made with Belfry specifically states that I'm to leave them alone, if found, unless they interfere with my job here.”  
Elliott nods, “That makes sense. I can assume the two in question aren't us?” Harry smiled in confirmation.  
Hermione asked, “Who is it?”  
“In the interest of privacy, I can't tell you. I'm sorry.” She huffed, he grinned. “I would like the files you have on all the members of this expedition, as well as a detailed list of the objects you've already found,” he explained.  
“What will you do with this information?”, Hermione wanted to know.  
“Make sure nothing's gone missing,” he avoided the idea of theft, but Hermione went there anyway.  
“No one on this team is a thief, Harry Potter!” she hissed like an angry cat.  
“Simmer down, Hermione,” Harry placated, “I was hired, through Belfry Securities,” he emphasized that last pair of words, “to come and protect you, this site and any objects found. Your bosses at the Smithsonian think something has either happened, or will happen, or I wouldn't be here!”, he practically shouted the last bit. She was always good at jumping to conclusions, and now seemed to be bolting for whether it was the right, or wrong one. He rubbed his face, clearly frustrated. “Maybe I shouldn't have included you in this Hermione, but I tried to think that not much of you had changed in the last 5 years,” he said quietly.  
“Look who's talking!”, sarcasm did not become her.  
“You know nothing about me, and this is neither the time nor place!”, he thundered, angry now. She snapped back into the depths of the couch at his show of temper. It was at once familiar, and terrifying. There had been an odd pulse of power on the heels of his words.

“Forgive me, Elliott,” Harry turned to the other man, dismissing Hermione for the time being.  
“Quite all right,” was the shaky response. Harry sighed, he'd slipped a little with his power in his heated response to Hermione. But she was so easily able to slip under his skin sometimes, it was enough to make him scream! Hermione just sat in stunned silence, though not of the magical sense.

'When did he get so powerful?' she wondered to herself. At the end of the war, she had only seen him for a few weeks before he disappeared. That had pissed Ginny off something fierce, making her act the banshee for awhile in melodramatic, bruised pride. No one had heard from Harry for at least six months, when he popped up at George's store one afternoon. All of the Weasleys had been surprised, and only three of them had been put out by his disappearance enough to create a scene that day. She shook her head, she'd learn nothing if she kept on antagonizing the man.  
“That's all I have at the moment. I need to see about securing the perimeter of the base camp before I do anything else,” Harry said, standing. 

 

He took down the privacy spells with a warning to them both. “Please do not talk about anything regarding the others. If anyone asks, I'm here to guard the two sites, and your findings. I will be availing myself of your camp supplies as needed, but offer to supplement everything. I also have House Elves that will act as my assistants, but they will not help you with your work unless they've cleared it with me.” He finished speaking, giving Hermione a look as though he expected her to challenge him on House Elf rights. She pointedly ignored him, allowing Harry to take his leave, with Elliott promising the lists in an hour.

 

Elliott turned to Hermione. “You two have a lot of history between you, don't you?”, he asked. He thought he cared about her, for all her overbearing ways, and had tried on several occasions to 'chat her up', but out in the field, she was all business. And the few times they'd shared downtime together, she was constantly looking for information to enhance the digs, not making for a good atmosphere for romance.  
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yes. And clearly we haven't moved past our school age impressions of each other,” she sounded depressed by that thought. They had grown up, hadn't they? She thought she had, and Harry? Well, certain things were the same, but so much more was vastly out of the character she remembered. No longer was he the shy, retiring boy who hated attention.  
Elliott reached over to clasp her hands in his, relishing the feel of shared callouses, and her warmth. “If you are meant to regain your friendship, you will,” he told her softly.  
She smiled, “Thank you, Elliott. Do you want me to take those lists to him?”  
“If you don't mind?”, he didn't want to pressure her into spending time with Harry Potter, but neither would he deny her the opportunity to reconnect.  
“It's no problem. Let's give him the master list on the recovered items. Better that than trying to figure out all our individual recording styles,” she suggested.

 

And they took that next hour to pull employment files, and neaten up the master list of the dig site before Hermione took the whole lot out to find Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, it's been nearly a month since I've posted. I had a lot to work on, and while I didn't hit my personal goals, I got some done. We're switching to an every other week schedule on top of it. Thanks for sticking around!


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Make no doubt about it, I do not own Harry Potter and related entities. All that belongs to Madam Rowling. I just own this odd little plot and the original characters. Please don't sue because I like sandboxes, though I need a beach to make a sand Hogwarts.

Hermione found Harry in his camp later that day, carving symbols into a variety of different stones arrayed before him on a portable camp desk. Several stones were blacker than night, absorbing all the light like tiny black holes captured in a readily manipulated package. Others were average, and boring looking stones, easily carved and set aside, almost forgotten. The black ones took care to work, and it is this that she sees Harry working as she approached the camp.

A House Elf, wearing an odd combination of Japanese kosode, and an English t-shirt, met her at the ward line, an invisible barrier that raised the fine hairs on her arms and neck in silent warning. Identity confirmed, she was waved into the camp proper. The sensation of rampant energy on the other side of the wards was heightened, and confusing.  
“Master Harrys is busy with rocks. Yous waits,” the elf told her. Hermione bristled indignantly. So much for the vaunted fairness of one Harry Potter! She grumbled to herself, 'No better than a slave owner!'  
“Cast no stones, Ms. Granger, where you have no true understanding,” floated his voice. His mouth didn't move. She watched his careful strokes with a small tool, drawing slow lines over the surface of the mystery stone.  
“Harry Potter! You will explain, now!” she screeched.  
“Miss will be silent while Master Harrys works the Nuumi stone,” the elf snapped its fingers, dropping a sphere of silence over Hermione. The woman became enraged, and began screaming under the influence of the spell. Harry kept on carving, unable to stop.

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was still carrying on in silence, and Harry was done.  
“Whew, finally,” he said, setting the black stone in line amongst the row of rocks on top of the desk, and putting the carving tools away.  
“Master, yous visitor is being uglies still,” his elf spoke up from beside the fire.  
“Oh, Hermione”, he stated, remembering she was there, “Yuku, dispel the silence please,” Harry requested. Yuku bowed, and snapped her fingers again. Hermione was ranting at this point and it took her a few moments to realize the silence had left her. Harry clapped twice, stopping her and drawing her attention with the sharp sound.  
“Hermione, for once, sit down and shut up,” he commanded, the fingers of his right hand twitching in an unrecognizable pattern that generated a charm. This charm produced a wooden chair that flew over the fire and came to rest beside Hermione, a clear demand for her to obey.  
She slunk over, and sat gingerly on the edge of the slatted seat, as if it would disappear any second. He glowered for a long moment, then turned to look at Yuku. “Drinks please, Yuku. Ice tea for me, and Hermione, what would you like?” he requested.  
“Water, please,” she quietly requested, afraid. The elf nodded, and popped away. Harry scrubbed a hand through his raven black, collar length locks, and down over his eyes, closing the lids over bright emerald orbs to dig forefinger and thumb into the corners next to his nose. He took a couple of deep breaths, centering himself, tamping down on his volatile temper. Yuku returned with the beverages, handing Harry his and floating a glass of water to Hermione.  
“Has anyone ever told you no, Hermione?” Harry asked coldly, after drinking half of his tea.  
“What?”, she asked in return, taken by surprise.  
“Did I stutter? Have you ever been told no? Denied anything? And I don't mean dessert for failing to take the trash out,” he said, words completely comprised of sarcasm.  
“Well, no. I've always succeeded at getting what I wanted,” Hermione stated, with a touch of pride.  
“And that's the problem,” he returned baldly, “Do you have what I need?” She nodded, pulling a folder from her ignored satchel. Yuku walked over and collected it from her.  
“Thank you Ms. Granger, that will be all,” Harry dismissed her, turned his back, and went into the tent, leaving Hermione to stare after him in shocked confusion. Yuku stayed with her, waiting patiently until she was ready to leave.

 

Inside the tent, Harry threw the folder to the table in the middle of the living room. “Dammit!” he growled. The other elves with him cast quick looks in his direction, checking to see if he was in control, or not. And if not, what they needed to do to 'batten down the hatches' as it were.  
“Everything is fine,” he visibly pulled himself together, “I'll be in my bedroom, meditating.” He disappeared behind a curtain depicting owls in flight. The elves went back to their duties.

 

Hermione eventually returned the glass to Yuku, thanked her and went back to her own tent in the archaeologists' camp. Instead of finishing the interrupted letter her mother, she pulled out her little used diary and a pen, and wrote an entry. It detailed her overall frustration of the moment with a certain green-eyed wizard, a tone she knew echoed as far back as their first year in Hogwarts. Thirty minutes later, she scratched out a quick note to Headmistress McGonagall, and put it with the outgoing mail bag. She had to settle for remaining confused and ignorant. And she hated it.

 

Well after dinner had been served amongst the scientists, and they relaxed around their own campfire, Harry was out setting up the protective wards he liked for an outdoor area. The odd, black rocks were the cornerstones of the schema, leaving the plain stones as the visible barrier markers. Once those were set, he spent a couple of hours on guard duty in his animagus form. For the first time since the team had arrived, they were visited by a flock of owls. Elliott was pleased, he hoped that the incursion of mice in the packing material would drop with the presence of the predators.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: AUGH! While they weren't supposed to immediately hop in the sack together, I didn't want them to FIGHT either! Dang it! Blasted characters! *glares* Honestly. This chapter was a bear to write, hence taking a month to get it up here. I hope the next one doesn't take as long!


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Same ol', same ol'. Do not own, it all belongs to JKR.

A few weeks passed in relative calm for the camp. The dig continued, Harry's attention focused in his tasks. Hermione tried being friendly to him whenever their paths crossed, but she wasn't sure she ever got through.

Harry largely ignored the archeaologists, and worked around them, establishing his perimeters and stalking through the camp and dig site at all hours. He never kept the same pattern that anyone could see, something he preferred. When he wasn't visible to the others, he was in his animagus form, coasting on thermals high above the dig site. He watched the five scientists at their work, digging like gophers.

He had to check himself against the bird form he wore. Instincts briefly roiling out of control at the comparison. Mentally he checked the time and swore. Well past lunch, no wonder the instincts were so strong. He circled the dig site once more before throwing himself into a long, arcing dive back to his tent. He landed on the ground and morphed back to his human shape.

Yuku waited for him in front of the tent with a tall glass of iced tea in hand to offer. "Yous late. Winky not happy," the elf huffed at him.

He blushed at the gentle reprimand, leaning forward from his crouch to take the drink from her. "She knows how I get on the job. I will attempt to do better," Harry admitted, draining the glass and handing it back.

Yuku huffed again, dismissing his words, "Yous always saying that." And she popped away to other duties.

Harry pushed into the tent, and found lunch waiting on the dining table, along with a note. He seated himself, dismissed the stasis charm to begin eating, and flipped open the note with his free hand. The note was from Hermione, asking if he had time to talk with her. He debated over his corned beef sandwich and crisps. Conjuring a quill and bottle of ink, he scrawled a reply, inviting Hermione to tea the next afternoon. Fudai appeared, backwinging to land on the table. Harry petted the dark barred Snowy for a few minutes before offering the reply. The owl simply clamped his beak around the bit of parchment and flew off out of the opening at the tent.

Harry went to wash up and write another report. He had to go update Elliott later that evening, and needed a summary to take along. His report included the details of everything he'd seen over the last week.

Most of the time, the procedural work was just enough to keep the details straight. Belfry wasn't paper happy, it just cared about the successful completion of each agent's job. Harry kept detailed notes purely for his own sake, using the information to alter his training as he thought he needed it. It was especially helpful when missions went pear-shaped.

His meeting with Elliott to look forward to, Harry began writing the brief, mentioning the odd habits of his suspect wizards, and going over the ward scheme. Those wards were tested every other day, forcing Harry to replace the weaker stones every third, and the anchor points every fifth. The anchors were due to be changed tomorrow. He sighed, acknowledging that he'd have to send one of the elves for more of the black stone.

 

Two hours later, Harry met with Elliott just outside the other man's tent. They enter, and Harry cast the same protective spells as in that first meeting, before they got down to business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I'm putting this story on hiatus while I try and come to grips with my characters arguing when I hadn't planned on it. This chapter was incredibly difficult to write, and is not up to my usual standards. Feels like a place holder. I hope I can get back into the flow of things here.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Do not own, please don't sue for playing!  
>    
> AN: Long time no see! This story has been a devil to write, and I'm sorry for that. I hope the block is over and done with, and we can keep moving. Thanks for sticking with me thus far, I deeply appreciate it.
> 
> Also, I am posting from my iPad today, so if it looks weird, don't worry, I'll fix it when I get back in front of my laptop. This evening for sure.

Harry was awakened the next morning by a slight 'fsh' noise, that of a match striking alight. Yuku turned a lamp's wick up, increasing the amount of light in his bedroom.  
   
“So sorry, Master Harry. Problem in the camp,” she informed him as he sat up in bed.  
   
“Dammit. All right, I'm moving. Can you get me coffee please?” Harry grumbled, throwing back the blankets and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He scrubbed at his face, shaking off the cobwebs of sleep, before standing to hunt for clean clothes.  
   
Yuku disappeared to fill his request, and quickly reappeared with a large mug of black coffee. He took it with a sigh, noting with pleasure that it was the right temperature for drinking quickly. Yuku found and gave him clothes one at a time so he could dress quickly in between gulps of the black liquid.  
   
“Okay, I'm ready. Hold the fort,” he handed back the mug, and gave an insouciant wave before transforming into a dusty, gray brown, white headed vulture* with startling green eyes.  
   
“Yes Master Harry,” Yuku agreed as the vulture leapt for the open doorway. Ungainly on the ground, the vulture took a few tries to get airborne.  
   
Harry gained altitude fairly quickly and utilized a thermal to coast in a circular pattern over the camp. He could see nothing obvious and made the choice to land and talk to Elliott. He morphed out of the change in front of the expedition leader's tent and “knocked” at the door.  
   
“Come!” Elliott called from inside.  
   
Harry pushed the canvas aside and went in. “Elliott, what's going on?” he asked, finding the other man seated at his kitchen table.  
   
“Not sure what you mean, Harry, other than it being a town run today,” Elliott turned in his chair to look at the young man.  
   
“Remind me who's going?” Harry requested, moving over to sit next to Elliott.  
   
“I believe it's Praeter and Kat this time. They should be leaving within the next couple of hours,” Elliott informed him.  
   
“All right. I'll be unreachable for the rest of the day. Do they apparate to Zheleznogorsk-Ilimsky* or fly?”  
   
“Usual to apparate out and fly back. Some of the potions can't be subjected to apparation,” Elliot explained.  
   
“I see. These are usual supplies then? Nothing weird gets picked up, that you've ever seen?” Harry interrogated, voice flinty. He understood the 'problem' Yuku had mentioned. The two people on his watch list now had opportunity for mischief.  
   
“No, nothing,” Elliott responded.  
   
“Anything go missing from here?” Harry sounded angry. It was a question he should have asked earlier.  
   
“Well, I do have a list of personal items people have lost. Never thought anyone was stealing,” Elliott flinched back from Harry, his anger palpable.  
   
Harry grunted, irritated that the idea of a thief hadn't occurred to him. “Make me a copy of that list, please. I'll pick it up when I return,” he requested, getting up from the table.  
   
“Of course,” Elliott replied.  
 

Once back out in the summer heat, he traded his human shape for that of another bird of prey and took to the air to wait for the others to make an appearance. Town runs meant getting lists from the others, of their needs, and confirming the main camp's requirements before leaving.  
   
   
Spotting the pair emerging from their tents, Harry flapped brown barred wings to take himself out of the lazy spiral and away from camp at his best possible speed. He arrived at Zheleznogorsk-Ilimsky after a few hours, and found a decent perch at the entrance to the small Wizarding section of town. With the keen eyesight of the raptor whose form he was inhabiting, Harry was able to scan the length of the main street, determining the layout and identifying any offshoot alleys.  
   
It wasn't too long before his marks appeared, heading for the red, brick barrier between the Muggle and Magical worlds.  
   
“What is it with brick?” Harry wondered mentally, watching Praeter Hanson tap an easy pattern across the face of the barrier to open the way.  
   
Kat Crosby slipped through as soon as it was wide enough, and Harry saw her lips move. Praeter said something back, and entered the Wizarding street, letting the barrier slide closed. Once inside, they split up, causing Harry to curse liberally, the sounds spilling from his beak only the gruff grunts and caws of the European Honey Buzzard.  
   
He dropped off his perch and winged into an alley to shift back to human, landing on his feet.  
   
“Of course they would separate. Can't stay together like I need you to. Aggravating wizards,” Harry grumbled. He drew his wand and cast a particularly complicated spell of his own devising. He had needed some kind of independent watcher that would follow a mark, and then report back everything it had seen and heard. The playback was very similar to a movie. It was one he didn't like to use, as it was easily disrupted, but he needed it now. It was a small, diaphanous cloud, that blended into the background in order to avoid detection, and chased after Praeter while Harry cast new spells to disguise his own appearance.  
   
Now blonde haired and blue eyed, he left the alley to follow Kat, who was heading into the apothecary.  
   
He managed to keep her in sight, watching as she paid for a crate of potions that were carefully shrunk and pocketed. Whatever the ingredients were, they obviously suffered no ill affect from that standard of Wizard shipping.  
   
She left the apothecary and wandered the street, coming eventually to a second pathway. Harry assumed it was this town's equivalent to Knockturn Alley. He followed Kat down this road, and watched as she found a shabby storefront with a broken window. No sign hung above the door, and no product samples lay in the display.  
   
He watched her go into the dingy place, and had to recast his Watcher Spell to follow after the woman. Now at loose ends, Harry went back out to the main road, and searched for a place to eat while he waited for something to happen, or the Watchers to return. The place he found, served him a heaping plate of pierogi and sausages, and gave him all the tea he could stand.  
   
He was left sitting for several hours until the pair of archaeologists reappeared. They settled in the same tavern and ordered food of their own. Harry wondered what he'd learn from the Watchers before he returned to the dig site. He let the pair have their lunch and depart for the camp. He had other work to do.  
   
He settled his bill, summoned the Watchers and apparated straight back to his own tent, surprising no one there with his reappearance.  
   
   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: * So yes, Harry has a multiple animagus talent. All birds of prey. There is a way to do this, in this universe, but of course, we don't know what that is, yet. He has been a Honey Buzzard and Griffon Vulture in this chapter, and has used the forms of owls in previous chapters.  
>    
> * - this is a real town in Siberia.


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Still don't own, just playing in the lovely sandbox
> 
> Warnings: We're headed for a fight, and there isn't much here, just the very end.

Pumping black wings, the dark colored vulture approached the one tent set aside from the others, arrowing in for a landing. Passing the wards with a slight judder, the bird landed beside the fire and morphed into a windblown Harry Potter. Yuku was there by the time he was finished setting himself to rights.

“Your Hermiones is waiting,” she told him.

“All right. Here, record what these watchers have, I'll look at them later. Thank you,” he handed over two small, glass cubes and Yuku nodded before popping away.

Harry straightened with a sigh, and ran a hand through his shock of black hair, eyes going unfocused for a moment while he gathered his thoughts.

“Harry?” a soft feminine voice startled him from his reverie. Hermione stood uneasily at the entrance to his tent. He couldn't identify the expression on her face.

“How are you, Hermione?” he asked stiffly. He walked forward, intent on entering his tent, but she didn't move.

“Animagus?” Her query held a depth of curiosity he wasn't sure he could assuage.

“Yes, among other things. Inside please?” he pointed past her shoulder.

“Oh, right,” she turned back under the canvas flap, leaving him to follow. How did every encounter leave her feeling as though she were still an untried teen? Bumbling and uncertain, or so she believed, she walked over to the hardwood table Harry used as both desk, and eating surface.

There were a few piece of paper scattered across the top, and while Hermione had been curious, she'd refrained from snooping. Time and the war had caused her to grow up in so many ways. Now, to convince Harry of that.

 

Harry followed her in silence, mulling over what he thought she'd want to know. He wasn't comfortable talking about all of it. He was nervous she'd not believe him or worse, would ridicule him. Seeing her take a seat at his table, Harry nodded and went to the kitchen alcove.

“Drink?” he asked, opening the ice box, revealing a collection of various colorful soda cans and bottled water.

“Um, Coke is fine, thank you,” she replied, lacing her fingers together to keep from fidgeting.

He brought over a red and silver can, and a clear plastic bottle of water, putting the can close to Hermione before settling in another chair. “All right,” he started, eyes hardening and his face closed off, as though he was attempting to ward off a stream of potential vituperation. “What do you want to know?” He broke open the water bottle and drank half of it quickly, waiting for her answer.

“This isn't an interrogation, Harry. We were, ARE, friends, and its about time we started acting like it,” she snapped, trying to keep a tight rein on her temper.

“Well, you have a point. I'm just, tired,” he took another swallow from his drink. “After Ron and Ginny, I stopped trusting people as easily as I once had.” He finished off the bottle, and rose to get another. Hermione simply sipped at her soda, thinking over his admission.

“That's valid, Harry. They weren't kind at the end,” she said finally, a little distracted. Harry made a noncommittal noise as he came back to the table. “I'm sorry for that.”

“Not your fault. Neither of us saw the 'real' Weasleys until after the war was over,” Harry said, sitting back down. “So, my life in a nutshell.” He rubbed his eyes, suddenly tired. He hated being alone.

“After the war, I noticed a problem with my magic. Minerva and Filius helped, but I ended up going abroad for more training. Started running my own company as well, with help from others you know.”

Hermione accepted the limited information. It would take a bit more time to reestablish the previously tight bonds of friendship they once enjoyed. “Can I ask about the magic?” she asked, testing the waters.

“Sure.”

“You trained with Filius?”

“Yes. He knows more about magic than was ever taught at Hogwarts, something about being part goblin. He helped immensely, and I owe him a great debt. He and Minerva were intending to implement some new theory to the courses last I heard.”

Hermione mulled that over for a bit, sipping more soda. Harry let her, drinking his own beverage. 

“I'd like to ask about your animagus ability, but I think that might be too personal?” she proffered.

He had actually expected that kind of question, and smiled reassuringly at her.

“It's fine. I discovered the ability in my last year at Hogwarts.”

“But! You weren't ever in class with us!” she interrupted, pointing at him in accusation.

His smile turned a touch sly, “The Room...”

“Of Requirement!” Hermione shook her head. It was the logical answer, if Harry had depended on Minerva and Filius for extra tutoring, Hogwarts was the best place to be, and the Room of Requirement could handle anything. “So that means it survived the Fiend Fyre?”

“Quite well, though the room full of junk was a loss.” He forbore to mention that the room continued on mostly due to the amount of magic the castle had stored within its stones. If she didn't know that, he'd let the school keep its secrets.

Hermione nodded, and asked, “I thought there was a potion involved?”

“There is, if you want to know if you have the power and if you want to know what kind of animal you'll be. For me, it was more an accident,” he shared a more wry smile with that admission. Hermione grinned. Many things had occurred to Harry over the course of their schooling, 'by accident', and they had all, for the most part, come out okay.

“Minerva was showing me a complex animal transfiguration and I just, changed,” he shrugged. It still wasn't anything special, as helpful as it had been over the last 5 years.

“Obviously, it's a large bird of prey,” she said, leaning forward in her excitement. No one else in their class had bothered to discover the talent, so this was a unique opportunity for her. The intensity in her posture and on her face brought back a lot of memories for Harry. He had missed this, missed her. Privately, Harry hoped they could rekindle their friendship.

“Well, actually,” he began, a faint grimace on his face, scrunching a line between his eyes and making his mouth frown. “Somehow, I can take the form of any bird of prey, assuming I've learned about it. It's useful, but just another skill.”

“How many?” Hermione was flabbergasted, eyes gone wide with surprise. As far as she knew, this was unprecedented. She couldn't recall the history very well, but there was nothing about multiple forms!

“Current count is 15. I haven't had time to study more. Not sure I want to, really.” Harry shifted in his seat, becoming uncomfortable under her stare, “It's nothing, Hermione, just a side effect of the war, and Dumbledore's great thinking.” The sarcasm tinging those last words practically threw Hermione's curiosity into overdrive.

Before she could ask about that, one of the House Elves appeared beside Harry's chair.

“Yes?” Harry asked, looking down at the tug on his pant leg. The elf appeared afraid to Hermione, but she wasn't sure what the cause would be. Harry would never mistreat another creature.

“Ward stones, Master Harrys,” the elf said, high voice trembling in fear.

“Damn it.” Harry surged out of his chair and ran for the back of the tent to find the ward diagram he had drawn up for the camp. More than half of the wards glowed red, indicating a breach and ongoing attacks.

“Hermione!” he called, summoning her back into the depths of the tent.

“Harry, what's happening?” she asked, all her old imperiousness evident as she demanded answers.

“The camp is under attack,” he said, showing her the 3D map. Based on a topographical map of the area, it was modified with some spell work so that it showed not only the actual lay of the land, but some of the air space around it. It was imperfect, as it couldn't update in real time, but it could show that there were people in the air.

Hermione was torn between amazement over the complexity of the map, and horror at the sight of the attack.

“What do you want to do?” she asked, deferring for once, to his obvious experience.

“Anyone else have experience dueling?” Harry asked. He'd prefer actual fighting experience, but knows that this is the best he could expect.

“Not that I'm aware of.”

Harry cursed softly then called for Winky. The elf appeared and waited for orders. Hermione blinked in surprise, but stayed quiet.

“All right. Get the elves mobilized to pack out the camp,” he started, bringing the map lower for Winky's benefit. “Get the dig site first, then, if you can, evac the archaeologists as well as their stuff. At the same time if possible.” Winky nodded. “Leave the tents, those are expendable. Ask them not to engage whoever it is, but to head straight for the plane. We'll hold our camp last. Move fast, and good luck.”

“Of course, Harry,” Winky replied before disappearing.

“They won't fight, will they?” Hermione asked, realizing he hadn't actually ordered them.

“Not unless they have to. C'mon, there's someone nearby that we need to deal with,” Harry answered, leading the way back out of the tent, drawing his wand as he did so. Hermione pulled her own from its sleeve holster and followed.

 

Outside the tent, Hermione watched as Harry managed to sneak up on the stranger attempting to break away from the wards. The man in shabby wizard's robes struggled with invisible ropes that let him pull away like taffy, but always pulled him back in, tightening like chains each time. To her, it looked like he was a fly caught in a spider's web.

Harry easily fired a rope spell to tie the man up, and then a different one to knock him unconscious.

“Can you get us inside your tent?” he asked her when he was done.

“I think so,” Hermione answered, trying to remember what state she'd left it in.

“Good.” He strode over to her, and gently, but firmly grasped her arm. She took a deep breath and visualized her target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. I am so sorry this story is taking so long to update. It is by far the hardest one I have to write, and I have no idea why that is. Everything is plotted, it just won't write! Very frustrating. On top of that, I have a recurring injury to my writing hand. I'm doing my best to take care of it, and change how I manage to write. I hope now that I've gotten to some action for this story, things will pick up, but with the RSI, I just don't know where that leaves us. The story will be finished, but I want to do it right, not because I'm angry with it.
> 
> All the best, and thanks so much for sticking with me thus far!


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle at the dig site.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Never mine. I'm not that lucky. I write in the sandboxes because it's fun!  
> TRIGGER WARNING: This is a fight scene, treat yourselves appropriately. While I don't go into detail on any injuries (yet), they do happen.

The House Elf Ril popped into the tent that had been used to house all the artifacts found on the dig. There was very little for her to do, other than double check for missing pieces and loose bits of paper before she placed a couple of the transporting disks on the boxeds. The disks needed Harry's magic to work, so Ril used a specially carved piece of stone that had been charged as a battery. The materials would reappear in Harry's Scottish home.

An enraged bellow from the tent's entrance surprised her. Ril spun around and saw an angry wizard shoving his way through the canvas. The swarthy, heavy set man freed his wand and shouted, “Incendio!”

The burst of orange light arched over Ril's head, heating the tips of her ears before landing on the table and lighting it on fire. Ril squealed in fright, drawing the man's attention to her. He fired another spell, causing a trio of deep cuts to bloom across her body.

Ril shrieked and disappeared, leaving the man at the dig site, screaming out his frustration.

 

The other elves were quick to remove the archaeologists, getting them to safety. The jet's crew made the scientists welcome and got them settled aboard the plane. Jetta, one of Harry's shyer elves, had brought Donna Vinatieri without a problem, but when she went back to get the last scientist, he dragged his feet, endangering them both.

Praeter Hansen wasn't a coward. Or so he believed. He was a hothead though. The sounds of spellfire drew him to the entrance of his tent. Three wizards arrowed over the camp on brooms, firing random spells as they made multiple passes. Tents burst into flame, and the cook tent exploded. Praeter drew his wand and prepared to engage when the soft, squeaky voice of a House Elf stopped him.

“Please sir, Master Harrys wants scientists safe. Come with Jetta,” the elf nervously whispered, rolling her hands together.

“No,” Praeter said, making to move forward.

Jetta popped out in front of the tent, and saw the destruction going on around her, with Harry leveling his own “artillery” at the invaders.

One broom flyer got a lucky shot and aimed for the one remaining, undamaged tent. Jetta saw the bald headed man swooping in for a shot, and made the decision for Praeter, grabbing him by the pant leg and popping them both out. They reappeared in the cabin of a luxury jet, and Jetta let him go to help Winky heal Ril.

Praeter however, was angry at being denied his fight, and shouted at the diminutive creature, “You worthless, bat eared beast! What gives you the right?” He brandished his wand in her direction, an action that caught the attention of Winky. She looked up, furious at the interruption and at the nerve of this idiot wizard.

Having come a very long way since that fateful World Cup and her dismissal from the Crouch family, Winky had learned, mostly from Harry, that no one should be worth more or less than another. While she served Harry with devotion and love, Winky never again took any abuse from any wizard or witch, and refused to let any of her family suffer either.

She saw this puffed up wizard, who had been saved by one of her own, angry at having been saved. It was beyond enough. Winky lifted her right hand, and twitched two fingers.

The resulting magic grabbed hold of Praeter in a body bind, flung him into a chair that immediately reclined to hold him comfortably, and then knocked him unconscious.

Jetta gasped in surprise that Winky had to take such drastic measures. “Winky, what will Master say?” she squeaked at the older elf.

“He be asking if it were necessary. Now, help me with Ril!” Winky answered stonily. The younger elf leaped to obey, and they had Ril set to rights just as Harry appeared on the plane, his arms full of Hermione Granger.

 

**Back at camp**

 

Concurrent to the elves getting everyone out of the camp, Hermione side apparated Harry into the center of her tent. They materialized in a smoke filled chamber, causing Hermione a brief moment of panic. Harry used a cutting curse to drop a wall of canvas then an air freshener charm to drag the foul air out.

“Hermione, pack what you can, and leave it for the elves. I need you to back me up against these wizards,” Harry commanded. She nodded jerkily, not quite back to herself. Harry stared at her for a moment, and she blinked, awareness bright in her eyes. “Go Hermione,” his voice softened for just a moment. She likely hadn't seen any kind of fighting since the war, much less had to deal with her home, albeit a temporary one, being on fire.

Harry looked out of the tent to assess where each invader was. It was hard to see anything, the smoke from the burning tents obscured much of his field of vision. He heard Hermione whispering the spells to start her things packing, and when she was done, gestured for her to join him.

“All right, we'll need to get out into the open area between tents. Slow is not necessary, but quiet is. Muffliato,” he cast at their feet. She did not notice then, or later, that he wasn't using a wand until they stepped out into the open.

Wands out, they moved away from her tent and into the cloud cover from the fires. Harry cast the bubblehead charm on them both, creating a recycling pressure of fresh air for them to breathe. Then triggering his Mage Sight, he was able to see the auras of anyone else remaining in the camp. He caught sight of 5 moving auras, determining they weren't elves.

“Hermione,” he whispered, “There's 5 people out there, and they could be friend or foe. Can you cast a wide spread stunner while I conjure ropes?” He didn't want to over power the stunning spell in the heat of the moment. It would kill if he wasn't careful.

“I think I can,” she replied just as quietly, readying the spell.

“Fire when ready,” Harry prompted, holding his wand loosely in a duelist's grip.

Hermione spoke the command of the spell, “Stupefy”, which sent a pale red jet of light racing across the smoky clearing. A bright yellow beam immediately arched back across the field, followed by a trio of orange beams. One of the beams struck Hermione, a lucky blind shot. She cried out, half spun around by the kinetic force of the spell before collapsing to the ground.

Harry shouted, a wordless tone of surprise and anger, then flung himself into battle. He called for an elf as he cast several air clearing charms to dispel the smoke. Once he had enough visibility, Harry cast several wide dispersal spells, mostly stunning and binding spells, that easily took out the opposition as though they were untrained wizards.

He didn't see Ril peeping from the sole standing structure in camp as he fought. Nor did he catch sight of the lone figure hovering over the camp site astride a broom. That man scowled, angry at having underestimated the abilities of any guards that he'd been told about. After seeing all of his men captured, the broom flier turned a sharp circle and left the scene, abandoning them to the tender mercies of the Russian Wizarding Police.

 

Harry straightened from the dueling stance he'd adopted to cast his strings of spells, barely breathing hard. Yuku had responded to his call to help Hermione, who was still supine on the grass, bleeding from many small cuts. The elf was trying to heal them, but none were responding to her magic.

“Master Harry!” she called, anxious. Harry turned and jogged back to the pair. “Cants heal her, Master. Spell is wicked bad,” she looked up at Harry, fear at having failed shining in her overlarge eyes, and drooping ears.

“It's all right, Yuku. We'll get her back to the jet, and everything will be okay,” Harry told her. “Go back to the tent, and help Dibby pack it out. Be back at the jet in 10 minutes.” Yuku nodded and popped away, leaving Harry to kneel down and see to Hermione.

She'd stayed quiet, attempting to avoid gaining the attention of anyone still out for their blood, but Harry could tell she was in pain simply from her glazed over eyes and shallow breathing.

“Hermione, it's over,” Harry said quietly. He ran a diagnostic charm over her to determine the extent of the damage. “I need to get you to my plane, I don't have the right healing potions out here. Apparating will be uncomfortable, even downright painful. As soon as we arrive, you'll get a pain relieving potion, all right? So hang on while we apparate,” he explained, levering her barely responsive body into his arms.

Hermione managed a nod of acceptance, bracing herself for the squeeze of apparition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In case it's unclear, the scene of Harry's battle takes place at the same time as Jetta rescuing Praeter.)


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath, reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter, or any recognizable Wizarding World person, item, or place. All belongs to JKR.  
> AN: This chapter comes to you raw and unedited. To that end, please note that anything that looks very off, or completely weird, feel free to leave me a review or PM about. Also note that politeness goes so very much further than anything else. My levels of chronic pain have meant that while I'm writing, I haven't got the tolerance for sitting long enough right now to edit. And 3 months is plenty long enough to leave people waiting to see what happened, hm? Onward.

Hermione woke, confused. The memories of the battle caught up to her, including when she'd been struck down.

She turned her head, opening her eyes to discover she was in some kind of airplane. It was a well appointed cabin, and from where she lay, she could make out pale leather and dark wood. She shifted, realizing she had been put in an actual bed that was soft and comfortable.

The rustling sheets woke Harry, ensconced in a reclining chair only inches from the bed. “Hey brave heart, how do you feel?” he asked quietly, stretching the knots from his back before sitting up, collapsing the chair back to standard. He leaned forward to check on her.

Hermione blinked at him, the tenderness in his voice, and open, concerned expression was a tiny shock after the acrimonious behavior of the last few days. She tried to sit up and Harry stopped her with a word. It froze her in place. The betrayal was clear in her eyes.

“Sorry, Hermione, I did that without thinking. You need to keep from going through too much extraneous movement for a few more hours yet. If you can promise not to move around, I'll cancel the spell, otherwise, I'll have to modify it,” he explained, releasing the spell over her head.

“I would be angry for that, Harry, but you're working to keep me from making things worse,” were the first words out of Hermione's mouth. “Yes, I can keep from moving around. I'd forgotten how oppressive the Petrification spell was,” she sighed when the pressure lifted as Harry canceled the rest of the spell.

“Hermione, I want to apologize,” Harry mumbled, eyes downcast to the plush carpet beneath his feet. “Our reunion didn't go well at all.” He shook his head, privately bemused by the understatement of the week.

“Harry, look at me, please?” Hermione requested quietly.

Slowly, Harry lifted his face. As he took in the sight of his dearest friend, laying in his bed, injured, again, his heart leapt and rabbited. He wanted to hide, sure that his pent up feelings were exposed for all and sundry to see.

“I need to apologize too,” she started to say. Harry flinched as though to interrupt. “No, you know I'm right. There was no reason to fight. I should have trusted that you knew what you were doing.”

“So, we need to fix this between us?” Harry offered. Hermione nodded, a small smile on her face. “All right, shall we start with the last five years?” Harry wanted Hermione to talk about her life, especially the details of where she stood with the Weasleys.

 

They talked about their educations after Hogwarts. Hermione had gone on to University at Oxford, studied magic and ancient roots before going to America to the prestigious MIT&M*. Harry talked a little about his trip to Japan, where he learned more about magic than Hogwarts had ever taught him. One of the elves knocked on the cabin door to ask Harry about food about an hour later.

“Whatever's available, Ril, and soft food for Miss Granger. How are the others?” he requested.

“Elves are okays, Master Harrys,” she squeaked, “the other peoples sleeping right nows.”

“And you?” Harry asked, having gotten the report from Winky about elf injuries while Hermione was unconscious.

“Is okay, Master Harrys,” the little elf affirmed with a nod that set her ears flapping.

“Good. If you get tired, take a nap. I know those injuries hurt,” Harry didn't order her, but there was firmness in his voice that leaned heavily towards making his words have that effect. Ril nodded, bat like ears flapping even more against her bald head. She backed out of the room, and closed the door with a soft click.

Harry turned, expecting Hermione to be ready to harangue him about Elfin rights. Instead, she had a deeply thoughtful look on her face, eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling.

“Hermione?” Harry ventured, ready for the potential explosion.

Hermione took a fortifying breath and turned her head to look at her friend of so many years.

“You're doing what you can, right?” she asked, voice small and shaky with nerves.

“Most, if not all of my elves are from abusive homes. There are a couple of families, but the children are required to only do a few hours of work a week,” Harry explained quietly, head down again.  
He had always had that posture, when trying to avoid confrontation that he felt responsible for. It was a hold over from his childhood, and not something Hermione ever thought would go away.

There was a small pop in the room, making Hermione flinch.

“Is came to help explains things, Harry,” Winky said, confidence thrumming through the elf.

“Winky?” Hermione was stunned. The last she had heard of this elf, she had been depressed, and lamenting the loss of her first wizarding family.

“Yes Missy Granger, is Winky. Now listen to Winky,” the elf stood on the foot of the bed, so the woman could see her, and explained about House Elves in general, and Harry's in particular.

House Elves were a special race of fae, servitors to the High Court. When Hogwarts had been a gleam in the Founders' eyes, a bargain had been made between humans and the fae. Certain of the House Elves would work for human families as servants and protectors. Being given possessions of their own meant freedom to return to the fairy barrows or to find a new family that might take them on. Of course, these pieces of history became lost, or corrupted, and then there are the cases of abuse.

“The High Court can do nothing, being stripped of most of its power,” Harry allowed. Winky was unable to speak of the court outside of her bonded family. “They have tried, but mankind'sability to create technology, as well as destroy the natural world, makes it incredibly hard for them to interact in our world.”

Winky agreed that the best they could hope for was freedom and kinder masters. Harry did what he could, but was only one person, and didn't need that many elves.

“No, Hermione, there's nothing to be done about convincing the various wizarding governments to change their laws about servants,” Harry said, catching the signs of Hermione thinking about a new crusade.

She blew out the breath she'd held in preparation for a tirade. “Fine. Thank you for explaining this.” Both Harry and Winky nodded, and there was another knock at the cabin door.

The door opened at Harry's “Come”, and Dibby stepped through, floating a tray of food into the cabin behind him.

“Oh great!” Harry said, changing moods in mercurial fashion. He rubbed his hands together in excited anticipation. “Lunch!” He looked over at Hermione. “Shall we sit you up?” he asked.

She nodded fervently. Winky, still standing at the food of the bed, snapped her fingers and her magic gently brought Hermione upright and created some pillows behind her for a back rest.

“Oh!” Hermione saw the smallest elf she'd yet seen, its large ears and over sized head a pale peach color, the bulbous eyes were hazel. The tiny elf was actually dressed! That was a piece of the situation she hadn't noticed before. Winky wore a simple dress and pinafore in a baby blue and white, belted in white. The smaller elf was in a set of shorts paired with a plain jersey top in similar colors.

“Missy Granger, this is my child, named Dibby,” Winky introduced the young elf, pride evident in her expression and words. Dibby bowed, the tray bobbling only a little as he did so, making the drinks slosh in their cups, but not spill.

Harry grinned at Dibby's efforts, and accepted the tray. “Thank you, Dibby,” Harry told the little elf, making him squee in delight. Harry laughed, settling the tray in Hermione's lap and taking one of the plates and a glass back to his own seat.

“Thank you, Winky and Dibby,” Hermione said as she looked over her tray of food. The elves silently bowed, and left the duo alone with their meal. There was a small bowl of applesauce alongside a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast. A glass of water sat beside a small bottle of ginger ale.

“Oh Harry!” Hermione suddenly realized, “Magic! On an aeroplane?” The question was valid. Most of the time, magical energies and Muggle electronics did not get along.

Harry smiled around his bite of shepherd's pie, answering after he'd swallowed. “The plane is shielded from the disruptive effect of magic,” he said, a bit of a smirk taking over the smile.

“I hope you'll tell me how?” Hermione asked, remembering the last time she'd demanded information from him.

“I believe something can be arranged. Now, eat. We land in Edinburgh in four hours. My employers will need to talk with your team.”

“Thank you Harry.”

They finished their meals in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: * - MIT&M is the magical version of MIT, which is the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and Magic. Credit for that belongs to Shadowrun First Edition RPG, 1992
> 
> House Elf history is completely made up.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, miss me? No seriously. The gang is on Harry's plane, headed for Edinburgh. What happens to those on board?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Even if I won the lotto, I doubt I could budge JKR on ownership. Just playing in the sandbox, as always!
> 
> Warnings: A mention of prejudicial beliefs, created for this story only. Not the beliefs of the author, nor the source material.

Harry was about to leave Hermione to rest after she'd managed to eat half the food brought to her when Winky reappeared with a couple of potion bottles, explaining what they were for. Hermione readily drank down the blood replenisher, and energy restorative before accepting the minute bottle of a sleep aid.

"It's not as strong as Dreamless, and if something goes wrong, you'll be able to wake up," Harry explained as Hermione turned the bottle in her hands. The cut crystal was no longer than her index finger, stopper included. The facets caught the light as the bottle moved. "You don't have to take it if you don't want to, but I'll have to put the Body Bind back on."

That decided her. She felt it was better to be asleep than awake and unable to move. Hermione pulled the stopper and tipped the vial into her mouth before she could second guess.

"Sleep well," Harry said as he left her in the cabin, pulling the sliding door shut behind him.

Harry saw that the other four members of the archaeological team were still asleep in the main area. The elves had grouped them together in the small sitting area closest to the cockpit. One of the men twitched almost constantly; a near violent thrashing of his head and limbs. Harry called on Ril. "Can you help that man? If he keeps tossing his head like that, he might break his neck."

"At once, Harrys," the little elf replied, snapping her fingers.

The man's head was easily captured by a conjured pair of wrapped bolsters that appeared near his ears. He could still move, but with luck, would only have sore muscles when he finally woke. Harry nodded and thanked Ril, who disappeared with a smile on his face.

Harry sat in the secondary sitting area, one that had been designated as his on-board office. As soon as he was settled, a steaming pot of tea appeared at his left elbow, along with a dainty porcelain cup. 

"I see. Well, it should help, thank you," he murmured to thin air. He poured a measure into the mug, and sipped to center himself. Once he'd drunk one full cup, he refilled it, checked on the Ever-Warm charm, and reached forward to the paneled bulkhead, where he'd had his office accoutrement stored. Opening up the panel in front of him revealed the tablet computer stored therein. Turning it on, Harry got to work, first updating Belfry on the job, then turning to his overdue Three Brothers commitments once that email was sent.

The work for Three Brothers was time consuming, but absolutely needed to be done. Harry had to look over proposals for new ventures in potion making, a request for funds for a safari to Central America for cataloging plants and animals of use to magicals, and a request to step up funding for a couple of Hogwarts projects. He wrote out a request for more info on the safari and Hogwarts projects, made a few edits to the proposals, and then opened a substantial file on the recent works from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

He'd only worked for ninety minutes when he was startled by noises from the other side of the plane.

Harry spun in place and cast his eyes over the group of sleeping humans. One of them was awake, the one Ril had had to restrain. Praeter, if Harry's memory served. He stood and crossed the plane in a couple of long strides to lean down and shake the man back to full consciousness.

"Potter!" the explosive sound of his name rocked Harry back on his heels. Brown eyes snapped wide open as Praeter tried to focus on his whereabouts.

"Hansen," Harry said, in a normal tone of voice. It calmed Praeter.

"Potter, need to..." he started, trailing off. His eyes unfocused, no longer seeing his surroundings. "Help me," Praeter whined.

Harry stared at the prone man, taking in all the signs he hadn't caught before. He cursed himself for a fool. "Winky!" he called. She popped to his side before the second syllable faded. "Imperius, and I should have dealt with it earlier," he growled, angry with himself for being distracted during the job he'd been assigned. This is what he got for trying to see if there might still be sparks between him and Hermione.*

"Full containments?" Winky asked. Harry nodded.

And Praeter was thus easily cocooned behind an invisible barrier. No sound emerged as the man stilled under the effects of the stasis spell.

"Harry?" Elliott was awake and sitting up from his place across from Praeter. He'd woken to the sound of conversation, and was confused by what had just happened.

"Dealing with a minor irritation," Harry said, frowning. "This is what I get for not fixing both issues long ago,” he paused to gather his next thoughts, “Belfry will be waiting when we land, Elliott, and Praeter and Ms Crosby will be taken into custody." Harry stood from his crouch, and stretched, before beckoning the team leader to follow him back to the other side of the plane. "I'm not sure Belfry's retrieval teams can get the stolen items back," Harry elaborated as he indicated one of the other seats in the alcove of his office. Elliott sat in the proffered seat.

One of the elves invisibly refreshed the teapot, and added a new mug.

"I'll talk with the others about it Harry, don't worry," Elliott dismissed the issue of the stolen personal items, while Harry made up the mug of tea for him. Elliott took the gently steaming mug with thanks and settled back to sip.

"You'll have to give a full accounting of the trip, as Belfry will need to send their own report to the Smithsonian. They'll also want to inspect your finds. Our agreement with the Russians," Harry explained.

"Correct, we give them anything that is clearly from the area we were digging in or from the area's historical culture," Elliott broke in, eyes on the cup he held.

"Exactly. And knowing the Smithsonian, they'll delay returning anything so they can get first crack at studying the object," Harry smiled, defusing any unpleasantness aimed at Elliott's employers.

The pair lapsed into silence until the flight crew called Harry to inform him of the need to land in Moscow* for refueling. He replied back in the affirmative, and told his crew that everyone was still sleeping. The plane landed smoothly and spent a couple of hours refueling before being cleared for the last leg of the flight.

 

Hermione woke up again not long after the plane's second takeoff, and one of the elves appeared to check on her. After a quick diagnostic, the elf helped her sit up before popping out of the cabin to get Harry.

Smiling, the wizard came into the darkened cabin, bearing another tray of soft foods.* "Well, I believe someone's feeling better!" Harry sounded very cheerful to her as he approached the bed.

"Hello again, Harry," Hermione greeted quietly. She was feeling better, and hoped that her injuries were mostly healed if she'd been allowed to sit up.

"We're six hours from Edinburgh, and Elliott is working on the report for Belfry. The others are still enjoying their naps and Praeter is being held in stasis."

"Stasis?" Hermione asked, her head tilted to one side in confusion.

"He was trying to throw off the Imperius, but he'll need some help. Decided it was safer for him to remain unconscious," Harry explained, settling the tray across Hermione's lap and then sitting in the armchair that had been left close to the bed.

Hermione picked up a slice of toast to nibble on as she contemplated Harry's explanation. Finishing the toast, she next reached for the mug of weak tea, and drank before addressing Harry. "Throwing off the Imperius requires more than you can provide?" she asked quietly.

"If they've been under as long as I suspect Praeter has been, plus there's retrieving any information about who cast it," Harry told her.

"Your company can do that?" Hermione said, surprised and curious.

"Someone on staff can manage, yes," Harry grinned a little. That at least, hadn't changed about Hermione, the nearly overwhelming need to know about new things she encountered. "You do know there's more out there to magic than that doddering old fool ever allowed to be taught, much less whispered about in the halls of Grand Ol'Hoggy Hogwarts?"

Hermione's eyes widened at the venom he inferred about the former Headmaster, but she said nothing about it other than, "Well, yes Harry. I did attend University in the States," said with all the sarcasm she could muster.

Harry laughed. The sound was loud and more free than Hermione could honestly remember, and it pained her.

"I wonder what the States teach in their universities," he finally said, when he pulled himself back together.

"So you never went after more schooling?" she dared to ask, truly curious.

"Hm, no," Harry drew out the syllable, eyes slipping closed as he recalled what happened to him after the War. The stoic face he maintained informed Hermione that this information was at best, unpleasant. She resolved privately, to wait until he mentioned anything more. 

"I completed 7th year," he held up a hand to forestall the exclamation, "And then had to seek training elsewhere. Ended up in Japan for awhile, and even trained with a shaman for about six months."

"How did you complete 7th year? You weren't seen in at Hogwarts in that time," Hermione blurted, leaning forward eagerly. Harry reached forward with one hand and pulled the tray down her legs so she wouldn't inadvertently spill something.

"It was irregular, I'll give you that," Harry replied dismissively, not yet ready to talk about that year. He knew Hermione was curious, and since they had apologized for their earlier antagonism, he felt that their friendship was back on solid ground. However, he had one burning question before he'd let her pin him with questions. "What happened between you and Ron?"

Hermione sighed, and looked at her hands, currently clenched in the fabric of the duvet. Not lifting her gaze, she answered in a subdued voice, "Discovered just how prejudiced Ron was. Everything was fine after the war, he was attentive, and gentle. We went out on several dates," her voice trailed off. She never liked discussing this part with anyone she'd known from Hogwarts, but Harry deserved to know. Before she was able to pick up her tale again...

"Did you know," Harry broke in, "that with Bill and Charlie being as oddball as they are, it was Molly who wanted at least one of her children to adhere to the old standards?"

Hermione finally looked up at Harry.

"Yup, it's true," Harry said to the disbelief she showed. "Arthur is the Head of House, right?” Hermione nodded. “So his family has been mostly Pureblood, with the odd mixed blood, never Muggleborns. Squibs, up until this generation, were tossed out of the family. Anyway," he waved one hand dismissively, "That's not the problem. The Prewitt side is where is gets interesting. Always Pureblood, no mixed or Muggleborn in 200 years. The scandal of Molly marrying Arthur was only lessened by a previous scandal some 75 years prior to their marriage."

"How did you find all this out?" Hermione asked, dumbfounded.

"Easy, doing research on my own family history," Harry said offhandedly, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "Wanted to discover just how closely related the Purebloods were." He sat back in his seat with a quiet expulsion of air and watched Hermione absorb and deal with this new information.

"So what was the previous scandal?" she finally asked.

"Only information I could find involved backing an ill fated expedition to South America."

"Wow."

"Yeah. So, that's the problem with Ron and Ginny. I was only acceptable because..."

"Boy-Who-Conquered."

"Exactly." He slapped his hands to his thighs and stood. "We'll be in Edinburgh, in not too much longer. One of the elves will come and get you when we land. Do you need anything before I go?"

She requested her dig notes and Harry left her alone until the plane landed safely at Edinburgh Airport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: * - I'm actually implying things occurring between chapters. I hope to go over more of this in a later chapter.  
> * - Fudged the distance between the job site and Moscow. Google Earth was supremely unhelpful.  
> * - Secondary to potions, food is a great restorative. But because Hermione was hit with the spell across her torso, soft, easily digested foods are called for.


	18. sort of a note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notice of Delay

I'm not even really sure we can post these kinds of things here. I know it's rather 'not done' in the world of fan fiction, but I'm doing it anyway; mostly because folks don't read profiles, and I have no other way of interacting with my readership.

This story is going on yet another indefinite hiatus. I just 'finished' it over on another site, but I want to actually write the story I want to write. This means I need more time.

I'm not going to go into the reasons, suffice to say I've been fighting with the story since the beginning, and it hasn't gotten any easier. I'm sorry to the dedicated readers of this story, that I have to take this time, on top of all the other breaks I've had.

I'll be deleting this once I actually have something to post, if AO3 forgives this trespass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIATUS MESSAGE: 3/1/16 I am on hiatus for the foreseeable future to deal with some personal stuff. Please don't post comments asking for updates, they negatively impact my depression recovery. Thank you.


End file.
